Nevermind
by A Single Broken Frame
Summary: A wolf-walker cross shows up in Aspen Creek, attracting the attention of the Marrok and setting in motion things that perhaps should have happened long before. Post Bone Crossed, Post Cry Wolf.
1. I'm Still Here

**Chapter One: I'm Still Here**

_"And I want a moment to be real,  
Want to touch things I don't feel,  
Wanna hold on and feel I belong.  
And how can the world want me to change?  
They're the ones who stay the same.  
They can't see me,  
But I'm still here.  
They can't tell me who to be,  
'Cause I'm not what they see.  
Yeah, the world is still sleeping while I keep on dreaming for me;  
And their words are just whispers and lies that I'll never believe."_  
--- John Rzeznik's "I'm Still Here"

This was one of my off days.

I had my good days and bad days, just like everybody else, but, unlike everybody else, my good days and bad days determined my whole demeanor. On a good day, I was proud, I was happy and loveable. On a bad day, I was pessimistic, and I was terribly moody.

Today, I wanted nothing, absolutely nothing, more than to be normal. To be average. To be human. And to make things worse, tonight, I couldn't run. Tonight was the full moon, and I didn't want to be at the mercy of the whole pack. I wasn't one of them, and I wasn't a part of the pack - couldn't be - and I was in danger on the full moon, if I stepped outside of the hotel I was boarding in.

But, as I'd often been told, I couldn't change who I was. And I was actually pretty proud of who I was and what I was. I just wished I could have fit in with some group of creatures. Whether it be humans, wolves, or walkers (not that there were many of them.)

I was Emlyn Valencia James. I was a seventeen-year-old girl, and I'd only just graduated high school. My mother had been a walker, and my father a werewolf. I was something between the two.

I was staying in the local motel until the Marrok was available to help out in my case. At the moment, he and his son, Charles, were straightening things out somewhere in Texas, where a pack had taken over a town, and the Alpha had murdered most of the humans. The survivors were supposed to be relocated to Aspen Springs, seeing as they knew about the dark side of the wolves. He was making it look as if the man had just gone on a murderous rampage.

So he was pretty tied down at the moment.

I'd been in Aspen Springs for two days. I was starting to get cabin fever from only leaving the room to go to the store across the street for food. I was itching to shift and go running, but I was too afraid to go running in the Marrok's territory without the Marrok's permission.

When I'd showed up and asked for a room, the lady at the front desk had said, "Where are your parents? I can't rent a room to a minor."

I'd told her the truth. "They're dead. I'm waiting to meet with a Bran Cornick. I need a room until he gets back from wherever he is."

"Oh!" She'd said. "Waiting on the Marrok? I'm sorry. I think I heard about you. Your dad was killed by his Alpha, right? I'm sorry, child."

I didn't tell her that my dad's death hadn't upset me too much.

My mother had died when I was born, and my father had remarried when I was six. She hadn't wanted kids, so in the typical fashion, after the wedding, he hadn't wanted kids either. I hadn't been treated bad or abused by them, but I'd gone to boarding schools and summer camps all my life. And I'd had a hard time. I was kicked out of each of my schools, and some of the summer camps, usually yearly or every other year, when they'd found a wolf in my bed or in my room.

When I'd started high school, they'd set me up a small house in a small town with a housekeeper to look after me. Not too long before my graduation, my father had challenged his Alpha and been killed in the process. My stepmother had taken her fifteen minutes of fame on the local news and milked it for everything it was worth. In the process, she had pretty much given me a free ticket to the pity party that was my hometown. I'd called the only other wolf I knew.

Nathaniel was in my dad's pack, but he was a submissive - the lowest in his pack. When I'd first been sent away, I'd gotten in the habit of calling Nathaniel and his family, rather than my father and step-mother, to keep in touch with home.

I'd gone to his house when I left my dad's.

"What do I do now?" I'd asked when he'd answered. "I can't live with her, and I don't really have anywhere to go."

And he'd told me my only viable options. "You can go to the Alpha's," Nathaniel had said. "But I'd have to advise against that. As far as I can see, your other option is to go to the Marrok."

So I'd come here, with nothing but a small inheritance and a need to make my presence known to the Marrok. A need for me to figure out what I was and how I was supposed to be.

* * *

**A/N:** I've always kind of wanted to start a story about the Mercades Thompson novels.

This takes place after Bone Crossed.

Reviews would be really nice! Please and thank you!

-Em.


	2. Awful Feeling

**Chapter Two: The Shake (Awful Feeling)**

"_They say a mind is a terrible thing to waste;  
__What good is mine if I'm locked up in a cage?__  
I was hoping you could help me out of here,__  
So I could finally disappear.__  
So I'll throw my thoughts into the sea,__  
Where no one will ever find -  
I can't seem to shake this awful feeling  
You wore, you wore, you wore me out  
And I can't seem to -  
I can't seem to shake this awful feeling.  
You wore, you wore, you wore me out  
And I can't believe."_

_---_ My American Heart's "The Shake (Awful Feeling)"

"There is nothing to do in this room!" I said to myself, frustrated.

They didn't even have HBO. Well, they said they had it, but I couldn't get the remote to type the number in right. There was nothing to watch, unless I wanted to see the news about that massacre in Texas.

It wasn't exactly in my best interests to watch, though. Since I'd left home, I'd had nightmares of the werewolves coming after me; and if you knew what really happened, you could tell which parts of the news were truth and which were lies.

But it would fool anyone who didn't know exactly what had happened.

They said that the man, Douglass Willis, had just gotten chainsaw happy and rampaged through the town, eventually turned on himself. As for the bite marks, Bran had taken some of the dogs they raised in Aspen Springs down there to act as the feral dogs that would have smelled the blood and meat and gone in for their own survival.

I felt for those poor dogs.

And I felt for those poor folks that had to deal with all the problems of knowing about the preternatural. Especially the three people that had survived one-on-one attacks.

I finally settled for switching off the television and going down to the motel's laundry room to do that much-needed chore.

All I had were old, faded jeans and a few t-shirts and some socks and underwear, so I threw it all in together. I'd already turned the machine on when I remembered that there has to be detergent to actually clean the clothes.

So I went to the small store that had become my food supply. After a small, quick debate between me, myself, and I, I gave in and grabbed the detergent that smelled the best and a tub of chocolate ice cream. As an impulse buy, I grabbed a handful of candy while I was checking out.

The checker-guy smiled as I put the candy on the counter.

"Ben & Jerry's and Hershey's? Who broke your heart?" Then, "That'll be eleven-thirty-four."

I chuckled. "No one. Just worried, I guess." I handed him the money.

He raised an eyebrow as he opened the cash register. "Worried? Not about that new walker in town, is it?"

I realized that I was probably gossip to the Marrok's pack and the people around here. I decided to play dumb.

"New walker?"

The guy handed me my change and started to bag my things. "Yeah, well, sort of. I hear she's some wolf-walker cross."

"I… I didn't know that was possible."

He shook his head and leaned down to rest his elbows on the counter. "Yeah? Well I didn't either. Hear the Marrok's gonna talk to her when he gets back."

"Why is everyone worried?" I asked. "I mean, it's just a walker, right? Not like she'd be dangerous. Especially with the whole pack here, _and _the Marrok, when he gets back. Right?"

He looked up at me. "Yeah, well, no one really knows. I've never heard of something like that. I'd prefer to think there _wasn't _anything like that. I mean, I have a little brother. Nieces and nephews. I don't want to see them in danger just because some idiot werewolf mated with a different kind."

I held back the anger as best I could, but I knew my eyes were about to change from their typical dark blue to a nearly white, wolfish color. And I knew that they would be noticeable.

"Yeah, well, I think the Marrok will take care of it just fine. Later."

I grabbed my things and walked out of the store. I started taking deep breaths to calm myself down, get better.

I shoved the ice cream in the small freezer in the small refrigerator in my small hotel room and left all but one of the candy bars on my bed before taking the detergent to the laundry room.

As I opened the washer mid-wash and poured in a lid-full of detergent, I thought about what that man had said.

I was weak, to the wolves. I was outnumbered to the wolves. I was pretty much a plaything to the wolves. I didn't want to be at their mercy. I'd been in that position before, and it was nothing short of brutal.

And they feared me.

I was back in my hotel room, just out of the shower eating spoonfuls of ice cream straight from the tub, when there was a knock at my door. Figuring it was room service, I yelled, "Come back later!" at the closed door.

The knocking kept on.

I took off the towel I was wrapped in and pulled on one of my clean t-shirts and some of my faithful boxer shorts and made my way to the door, tripping on the laundry basket on the way there.

"Dammit," I muttered to myself as I pulled the door open a crack.

A woman stood there, but she was definitely not from house cleaning. She was straight up gorgeous. Dark hair, green eyes.

Then I scented her. Werewolf.

The fear instinct kicked in. I wanted to fall to the ground and express my submission, but I knew that once I started doing that here, I would never be able to stop.

Remembering what I'd heard at that store the day before, I suspected her to be at least short-tempered with me, but she was anything but when she said, "Hi! I'm Sage. You're Emlyn James, right?"

I slowly nodded.

She started to poke her head through the small hole between the door and the frame. "Can I come in?"

Again, I slowly nodded and stepped back from the door. I grabbed the tub of ice cream, put the lid on it, and shoved it in the tiny freezer of the fridge.

She stepped inside and looked around, as if she were judging my house. Except it was a motel room.

"I'm supposed to take you to see the Marrok." She looked me up and down. Then she smiled and said, "but he didn't say what time."

_Oh, no,_ I thought. _Of course he sends the bloodthirsty wolf after me. _

I was cursing in my head and trying to find a way to get out of this situation when Sage surprised me even further. She flopped down on the bed and grabbed the remote. Somehow, she typed in the channel and got HBO. Then she said, "Got anymore ice cream?"

* * *

For those people that don't know, I own nobody in this fiction except for Emlyn and the characters connected to her. No Bran, no Sage, none of them, sadly.

And the song belongs to My American Heart, or whoever happened to have bought the rights to them.

I need to make them longer and update sooner.

Especially on Forever Doesn't Last. :)

I'm working on it, but it's the last few weeks of school, so they're loading on the finals, and I'm exhausted.

I shall try to get updates on each story by the end of the weekend. Friday's a weather day, so.

Reviews would be super nice. They always make me want to update sooner. :D

- Em.


	3. Human

**Chapter Three: Human  
**

"_Pay my respects to grace and virtue_

_Send my condolences to good_

_Give my regards to soul and romance_

_They always did the best they could."_

-The Killers' "Human"

Two hours after Sage showed up, we were telling each other stories of summer romances and painting each other's toenails, binging on Ben & Jerry's.

At least, that's what I'd have preferred.

As soon as I got the ice cream out and it was successfully cradled in Sage's arms, a plastic spoon in her other hand, I grabbed some of my newly clean clothes and changed in the bathroom.

When I came back into the room, Sage surprised me. She said, "Yum. It's strange how good ice cream can calm your nerves, no matter what the matter at hand is."

I arched an eyebrow, but I nodded. I didn't want to make enemies before I could even speak with the Marrok.

"Who works that store across the road?" I asked.

She gulped down that last mouthful of ice cream and said, "What's he look like?"

"Red hair, green eyes-"

"Oh, that's Vincent Tanner. Goes by Vince, though. Likes to think he's a member of the pack, even though he's human. Why?"

I sat down on the other side of the bed and sighed. "He said that he was afraid of a wolf-walker mix. Said he didn't want to see people in danger just because some idiot werewolf mated with some other kind."

She looked at me with a grimace. "I take it he didn't know what you were?" Then, with a sad smile, "You eventually get used to the stares, people pulling their kids closer when you're around. This might be the Marrok's town, but that doesn't mean people aren't still skeptical.

"I mean, some people take it in stride. Think of us as protection and just go on about our lives. But there are people here who, even though they've lived here all their lives, still think of us as abominations and would rather if we were dead. Vince exaggerates, too. People aren't afraid of you, that I know of. I think they're pretty much just curious."

I nodded. "Yeah, people look at you pretty funny when they check your dorm at midnight and find a wolf laying under your blanket."

She laughed. She started to say something, but before she could, the hotel phone rang.

I looked over at her. "No one that I know knows I'm here."

But I still lunged for the phone and got it before she could. "Hello?"

A girlish voice replied, "Emlyn?"

"Ravine," I said. She was Nathaniel's daughter, about a year older than me. "What's up?"

"Oh, the same. I'm back home for the summer. I heard you skipped town and had to bribe Dad to give me your hotel number." She sounded like a college girl should sound. Bubbly, full of energy, the same Ravine that I'd played Barbies with so long ago.

"Bribe him with what?"

She laughed, "I can no longer get Cheeto blood all over the remote."

I laughed. We'd had this joke since we were small, that the cheesy stuff that gets on your fingers when you eat cheetos was it's blood. Things had been so simple back then, when I could at least play human for a little while.

Sage cleared her throat.

"What was that?" Ravine asked. Then, "You with someone?"

I swallowed. "I have to go meet someone. I'll talk to you later, K?"

She sounded disappointed when she said, "Sure." Ravine hung up before I could.

Sage said, "Sorry to interrupt the get-together, but we should probably go."

I pulled on my shoes and followed her to the door. She made to open it.

"Sage. What's taken you so long?"

The dark man standing in the door way was a little more than scary. And that's exactly what he was. Dark skinned, dark hair, dark eyes. In some other setting, he might even be handsome, but I was doing all I could not to cower.

"Charles," Sage said, looking down.

He chuckled. "Time to get the little one to see Da."

We followed.

-------------

The house was amazing.

As my English IV teacher would have said, it was 'frikkin' huge.'

But it was a bit more modest than you'd think the Marrok's house would be. Whether that was because he was humble or because this was Montana, I couldn't be sure.

We pulled up in front of the house. We were in Charles's truck. How he navigated the winding roads, I'd never know. I had my license, but I wasn't a good driver.

Charles Cornick was the Marrok's son, as I'd found out.

I surely hoped Bran Cornick wasn't as scary as his son.

I followed the other two into the house, and we arrived in a nice living room. I was instantly hit by the overwhelming scent of werewolves. There were multiple scents, lingering. I couldn't help but be filled with dread. What if I was their meal ticket? Nice, fresh, Emlyn. I'm sure I would die a painful death, mauled to death by ravaging, bloodthirsty-

"Emlyn?" Charles asked gruffly, pulling me away from my horrific thoughts.

"Yessir?"

I heard another chuckle. I realized that there was another scent in the room. I looked around, but I only saw a guy that looked like he might be visiting home from college, too.

I repeated myself. "Yessir?"

The college kid answered me instead of Charles.

"Ah, so you're Emlyn James, I presume?"

I nodded and looked back at Charles, trying not to be rude. "Um, where am I meeting the Marrok?"

This time, all three of the others laughed. I couldn't help but guess I'd made yet another blunder.

"I am the Marrok," the college kid said. "Bran Cornick, nice to meet you," he added as he held his hand out for me to shake.

I would have protested and asked for the real Marrok, but I was in a room with three other werewolves who could have easily taken me on one-on-one; I didn't feel like pushing my luck too far.

"Um, nice to meet you too."

He stared at me, as if trying to make sense of something.

I almost forgot to avert my gaze, but I remembered before I'd metaphorically stumbled into the lions' den. Or wolves' den in this case. And maybe not so metaphorically.

"I've been wondering," he said, "what exactly is a wolf-walker cross? What do you shift into? Must you change on the full moon?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't have to change on the full moon. I-I turn into a wolf, not a coyote. But not like you guys. I change faster, and I'm more like a real wolf. Not as big as a werewolf. Not as dangerous."

I couldn't help but like the Marrok. But I wondered if that was actually me or if it was part of his being the Marrok.

He surprised me when he said, "Au contraire, Ms. James. A cross such as you could wreak havoc, just like any other wolf or walker." Then, even more surprising, "I'd like you to join my pack."


	4. The Deep End

**Chapter Four: The Deep End**

_She can't hold her own,  
Who would have known?  
She is misery's company.  
She's got no place to go,  
No place to call home -  
She's got misery's company.  
She goes straight,  
Straight for the deep end -  
Doesn't hesitate to dive right in.  
Be careful now, be careful now, be careful, be careful now.  
She only comes to me in my dreams,  
So sleep becomes routine.  
It's not healthy, it's what makes you right.  
It's not healthy, it's what makes you._  
---Scary Kids Scaring Kids' "The Deep End."

I had two stuffed animals that went with me everywhere. They'd gone with me to all of my schools, all of my camps, and they were the two friends that I'd never had to let go of, in the end.

They were both horses. One was small, about six inches, light brown and had a white nose. His name was Carl. The other was darker brown, and was around 10 inches or a foot. His name was Walter.

I had never once been embarrassed of Carl or Walter. Until Charles Cornick saw them and said, laughing, "What is this?"

It was the day after my meeting with the Marrok. When Bran had invited me into the pack, I'd thought, _what other choice do I have?_

But Bran offered me time to deliberate, saying that though he'd like for me to be in his pack, that it might also be in my best interests to go to another pack, one in Washington state, that had another walker.

So, while contemplating my fate, I was going to stay at the hotel, but he had told me that I should stay with Charles and his wife, Anna, who happened to be an omega. Not that I really understood what that meant.

So Charles had come by early this morning to take me back to his place. He hadn't looked angry about it, but he hadn't looked pleased.

I snatched a dangling Walter from his hand. I already had Carl in my duffel bag.

"Do you take that with you everywhere?" He asked.

I knew wolves could sense lies, so I said, "Yeah, pretty much."

He laughed. His laugh was deep. I shook my head and tried to zip the full duffel bag.

"What?" He asked.

I just shook my head again.

He grabbed my arm. "What? What is it?"

I looked up and said, "What? I just didn't know you could smile," and started struggling with my bag again.

He reached over and zipped the thing easily. I tried not to pout as I said, "I was gonna get that."

Charles chuckled. "Yeah."

The ride to his house was silent, as he had nothing to say to me and I didn't have a whole heck of a lot to say to anyone. I munched on the last of my chocolate bars and just stared out the window.

It was a beautiful place. Of course, it was summertime, so all the flowers were blooming and the trees were green on the mountains. The road was twisty and seemed to go on forever in front of the truck.

Finally, he said, "Next week's the Alpha's conference."

"Huh?" The term might as well have been written in Greek. But it still didn't sound good.

"Yearly, all the Alphas come here to meet with Da. Usually it's later, more in the fall, but after everything that's gone down in Texas, Da wants updates. I just thought I'd give you fair warning. You don't seem that keen on werewolves, and there'll be several packs' worth."

My mind started running in high capacity. What was I going to do? There would be hundreds of wolves here, and they would all be alphas. That spelled nothing but _hunt._ And wolves had a tendency to hunt out the weakest link.

In this case, that was _me._

I didn't want to be someone's meal.

Charles looked over at me and said, "Relax. You're under the protection of the Marrok. Mercy was here for years, and they never once tried anything with her. They'd be stupid to even think of it."

I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax a little more. Or, more like it, not to curl up in a ball right there in the passengers' seat. I hated panicking like this. It always dug up bad memories.

"_Michael, don't do this," Nathaniel begged. I didn't know why Daddy was doing that, making Nathaniel beg. "Don't do it - she's your daughter."_

"_Stay out of this." Daddy was growling. That wasn't nice. Why was Daddy growling? "It nothing of your business. What if it was your daughter that he wanted?"_

_Nathaniel started yelling, angrily. He was a little scary when he yelled. "If it were any of my family, you know what I'd do? I'd _die_ to protect them! I'd kill him before he got to my kids or my wife!"_

"_Well, Emlyn killed my Sarah. I'd rather it be her head than mine."_

_I started to ask Daddy why he said I killed Sarah. Sarah was my momma's name. He'd always said she could only be my momma while I was sleepin'. Why was he saying I killed my momma? "Daddy, why are you sayin' I killed Sarah? Sarah's my momma, ain't she?" _

"_Shut UP!" he screamed in my direction._

_Daddy scared me when he was like this. I scooted my pink Barbie chair back to the corner and held Walter close. I didn't want him to be more scared than me._

_Nathaniel grabbed Daddy's throat, shoving him against the wall. "How _dare _you! I'm taking her. I'm taking Emlyn home with me. You are not going to let that pervert have his way with-"_

_Daddy threw him against the wall. I saw a little bitty piece of ceiling fall down. I held Walter closer, looking out from under his head to see Daddy snarl and start to Change. I tried not to cry. Daddy scared me when he changed. He got so big and mean. He scared me so much when he turned into the wolf. I cowered in my Barbie chair. _

_I wanted to be my wolf and run away but I knew Daddy would follow me and hurt me like he did last time. I had only gotten my pretty pink cast off the week before._

_I wanted to go in my room and curl up under my soft blanket. _

_Nathaniel started to change too. _

_I closed my eyes and started whispering to myself what I thought my momma would say if she was here. That everything was okay. I prayed that God would make my momma come through the door and make them stop. The snarling got louder after they'd both finished changing. I didn't open my eyes. I knew what was gonna happen. _

"Emlyn. Emlyn. C'mon Emlyn. Anna's waiting and she's not going to be happy if I show up and you're in a state like this. Emlyn. Snap out of it," Charles was shaking me.

I was curled up in a ball in the passenger's seat.

I closed my eyes and tried to calm my breathing. I told myself that it was all over, that that had been a long time ago. Before even Dad had gotten his new wife.

"What was that about?" Charles asked when I was sitting straight up again.

I shook my head. If I started talking right now, I'd start bawling. I had that familiar lump in my throat and that stinging in my eyes.

I hated reliving those days. The one good thing Melinda had done when she married my father was that she'd gotten me out of the house. Away from him.

Charles leaned out, nearly in front of me. "Emlyn. I can't take you home like this. Calm down a bit."

I still couldn't speak. I nodded. He pulled back out on the road. I could tell that Charles was tense, that he thought I'd freaked out either because of what he'd told me or just being around him.

I wanted to tell him that, no, it was my panic attack. That it was the thought of being around wolves like that. I wanted to tell him these things, but I couldn't show him that scared me. I didn't need someone in his position to know my weaknesses.

I couldn't afford to keep going like this. If being around werewolves was going to cause me to panic like that, then I'd just have to get over it. I couldn't afford to show weakness like that again. Ever. Not if I was to join a pack. And I still wasn't sure of that, but there wasn't much choice, was there? Werewolves were in every town and city that I knew of.

Not that running had ever helped me, anyway.

* * *

I am so sorry for the super-long delay.

I went on a week's vacation and when I got back, my internet was broken. I just got it fixed this afternoon.

Please forgive me. And for anyone who reads my other fiction, Forever Doesn't Last, I plan on having another chapter up on that, also. :]

But I'm leaving out on another vacation-thing in a week. I'm going to try and get another chapter up before that, because I won't have my computer for another week.

And I don't like to keep you guys waiting. I just get caught up in things.

Anyways, the song belongs to Scary Kids Scaring Kids or whoever happens to own them. Charles and Anna and the Marrok and all of them belong to Patricia Briggs. I own the other things. :]

So, enjoy. Please review!

-Em.


	5. Restless Heart Syndrome

**Chapter Five: Restless Heart Syndrome**

"_I think they've found another cure  
For broken hearts and feeling insecure.  
You'd be surprised what I endure.  
What makes you feel so self-assured?  
I need to find a place to hide.  
You'd never know what could be waiting outside.  
The accident that you could find  
It's like some kind of suicide.  
So what ails you  
Is what impales you -  
I feel like I've been crucified,  
To be satisfied.  
I'm a victim of my symptoms;  
I am my own worst enemy.  
You're a victim of your symptoms;  
You are your own worst enemy -  
Know your enemy."_  
---Green Day's "Restless Heart Syndrome"

We pulled up in front of his house. I was still a little freaked out. I hadn't said a word for the rest of the drive. Charles had tried to start a conversation, multiple times, but I just didn't - couldn't - speak.

There was a note on the counter when we started inside. A pink Post It note. Charles mumbled to himself as he read it.

"Yeah, um, Anna had to leave. Apparently she wants to make you a big dinner but she needed some things from the store, so… I guess I can show you to your room, then?"

I nodded. I felt bad, all but forcing myself on these people, making them let me stay in their house with them. They hadn't been married for a year yet, or at least that's what Charles had told me in the car.

And it was painfully obvious that he was awkward, having to care for a broken kid like me. And I didn't want that.

Finally, I mustered up the courage to speak.

"Why you?"

Charles raised an eyebrow.

I sighed. "Why you? I-I mean, why did he pick you to baby sit me?"

Charles laughed again. It was nice to see him laugh. Werewolves didn't laugh as much as you'd think. A happy one was downright rare. "Baby sit? Listen, he wants you to join the pack-"

"For his own benefit." I said.

He put his hand on my shoulder. "No, Emlyn. Da wants you in the pack for your own protection. That's why the only other choice is the Columbia Basin pack - their alpha's mate is a walker. Da didn't get to be the Marrok by using people to his own benefit."

I looked down at the floor. This whole thing scared me.

I murmured, "I don't want to join a pack."

Charles' voice got softer. "Why are you afraid of us?"

I shook my head. "Which room's mine?" I asked, regaining at least some of my confidence.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. I guessed I was kind of pissing him off. "Third door to the left. You get your own bathroom."

"Thanks."

Charles left me alone after that. I guess it had made him angry that he thought he'd almost gotten me to spill my guts and then I'd changed the subject. But there are things that you just don't talk about. Not because of manners or society or even what he thought of me. I just didn't want to talk about it because it was my burden to bear, mine to regret and to hate.

It was my affliction.

When I got to 'my' room, I saw that is was a light sea-foam blue color. It was actually pretty nice. There was a big, bay window with a white seat that looked quite comfortable.

I threw my duffel bag on the bed and went to sit in the window. Outside, there was a beautiful view of the mountains. Towards the top of some of the farther ones were snowcaps. Everything else was green and growing in the early summer heat.

I woke up when Anna got home. I guess I'd fallen asleep against the window. My cheek had a red spot where I'd leaned up against it.

She knocked on the door, waking me up, and said, "Can I come in?"

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. They hurt from sleeping with them in the direct sunlight. "Yeah, come on in."

She opened the door slowly. I saw that she had blue eyes, light brown hair, and she was a little pale. As soon as the door was open, I felt a little calmer, a little more content.

"May I join you?" Anna asked, motioning with her hand at the other end of the seat.

I pulled my legs closer and put my arms around them and nodded.

In the back of my mind, I vaguely wondered how she'd found Charles. They both seemed pretty nice, for werewolves, but they seemed so different. The main thing that struck me was that he had an air of fear around him, as if he were trying to scare people away. Anna was the exact opposite - she was calming.

She sat down on the other end of the seat and turned to me.

"Hi, I'm Anna, Anna Cornick."

I shook her hand. "Emlyn James."

She looked out the window. I followed her gaze out past the backyard and to the mountains.

"It's so beautiful here," she said. "After being here, and seeing this place, it makes me wonder why I ever lived in Chicago."

"I wondered why you didn't have the same accent as everyone else around here," I replied. "I didn't know you were from Chicago."

"You ever been there?" She asked.

I shook my head. I'd always stayed in the western part of the country, pretty much. Not including that year I spent in the panhandle of Texas, and another year I'd had in Alabama.

She gave a sympathetic smile. "Well, I definitely don't miss it much. It's a nice city, but I hated it there."

"Weren't you abused by the pack there?" I asked. I couldn't help but wonder. Sage had let on that she had been raped by the wolves in Chicago, and that the alpha had made her against the law. She was an Omega, lowest in any pack. Well, not anymore, now that she was Charles' mate - but you get the idea.

She looked me in the eye for a long minute. Then, a simple, "yes."

I looked back out the window. Part of me wanted to open up to her, to spill my guts like Charles had wanted me to, and to get it all off of my chest. But the other part of me knew that every time I'd done that, they'd turned away. They'd gone off and told someone that I was crazy, a lunatic, or that I was trying to throw a pity party.

So I continued to stare out the window.

She was still looking at me when she said, "I'm sorry about your father. I heard what happened to him. I'd like you to know that, should you decide to stay with this pack, here, that you'll always be welcome here. And if you ever want to talk to me about anything - maybe something from your past, or how you're feeling now, or even about the weather - I'm right here."

She smiled and put her hand on my arm for a second before she stood back up.

But it only took a second.

Her presence in the room had calmed me, given me more of a clear head. But when she'd touched my arm for that small amount of time, I was at peace. And it had been so long since I'd been truly at peace, truly relaxed, that I was still in shock over it when she said, "I'll go get dinner ready. It should be on the table in an hour or so."

But I still nodded and smiled as best I could until she had shut the door behind her.

I'd wondered what an omega was. Now I knew.

It wasn't until I'd thought about that for a few seconds that I realized what she'd said.

_She knows what happened to me,_ I thought. _She said 'something from your past' like it was something she knew about. _

How could she know? I was from Nevada. Not Chicago. And as far as I knew, she'd never lived in a place other than Illinois. At least, that's what I'd heard about her.

I got up and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror.

My nearly-black hair was in a messy ponytail, as I'd fixed it this morning, and my dark blue eyes were a little puffy from my nap. I was dying to go running, but I was still a little afraid to do that. Not here, not now.

So I splashed my face with some cold water to wake up completely, even though I was already more awake than usual, and pulled my shoes off. It was a little backwards, pulling my shoes off after I had woken up, but I only minded it for a moment before unzipping my bag.

I still wasn't going to unpack, but I wanted one of my books.

I read all the time. It was my escape.

When I'd packed, I'd only brought my favorite books. About ten paperbacks and five hard-covers that had long ago lost their jackets.

I figured I needed to stop over thinking everything for a little while, so I picked up one of the hard-covers.

This one, a friend at school had given me before I'd had to move. She hadn't been a close friend - more of an acquaintance - but her father was a werewolf. She'd understood, and given me the book as a parting gift.

It was _The Neverending Story _by Michael Ende. After I first read it, it had become near and dear to me. I didn't know why - it's not like there was anything about it that pertained to me, especially, I just loved the idea of saving an entire world by reading a book.

I was to the part where all the Messengers arrive to see the Childlike Empress and find that there are Messengers from every part of Fantastica, when Charles knocked on the door.

"Dinner's ready."

"Alright," I said back. "I'll be out there in a minute."

I heard his footsteps head back for the kitchen.

_Maybe, _I thought for a second, _maybe it won't be so bad here. _

_

* * *

_Alright, so I did it.

For the first time EVER, I posted two chapters of the same story in three days.

Please, hold your applause.

Now, I might still try to get another chapter up before I leave, but it's highly unlikely.

But the song belongs to Green Day or whoever happens to own it.

Charles and Anna belong to Patricia Briggs.

Proceed with Caution: the following chapters might or might not (I'm not sure yet) have more spoilers of The Neverending Story. (It's a great read, though. If you have the chance, read it to the very end. It's one of my very very favorite books. )

So, please review, again. I love those dear reviews. I love them like I love pie. (Which is very dearly, I assure you.)

-Em.


	6. So Far Away

**Chapter Six: So Far Away**

"_If you leave, where will you go?  
For the regret you hold in your heart will start to show.  
If you leave, how will you know  
If our ever after ever had a chance to grow?  
Do you dream, or do you sleep?  
Do you pick and choose among the jewels for one to keep?  
Do you wish upon a star?  
Or does everything just out of reach seem just too far?  
Nothing seems to change,  
Let alone, you won't forget my name.  
Just don't lose what you know -  
Just don't lose what you know.  
When you're so far away.  
So did you ever say  
That no matter where you go, it all ends up the same?  
Do you wish upon a star?  
Or does everything just out of reach seem just too far away?"_  
--- Nine Day's "So Far Away."

Dinner was a lasagna with four cheeses. I could smell it as soon as I opened the door. When I arrived in the kitchen, I saw Anna carrying a salad to the table.

"You use a lot of tomatoes, don't you?" I asked. She smiled at me and nodded, placing the salad next to the lasagna. "Great, I love them."

"Oh, you can't have Italian without them," she said.

I could feel her peace radiating through the room like air from a high-power fan. She was humming a song. It took me a few notes, but I finally recognized it as Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel." It was one of Liam's favorites - I'd been around him plenty before he'd left for Harvard; he was Ravine's older brother. I joined in, my voice a slight bit lower than Anna's.

She looked at me. "You know that song?"

I nodded. "A friend of mine used to listen to it quite a lot."

"Finally," she laughed. "I was beginning to think I was along on that one. You have a favorite artist?"

"I have a wide range," I said. "It changes day to day."

Charles walked through the back door. He smelled like freshly cut grass, and his white shirt with green stains agreed, he'd been mowing. "What changes?" he asked.

Anna replied, "Music."

I knew that if she hadn't been there, I would have been scared out of my wits. I'd always heard of Charles. The pack had always used him as a threat to scare me and the other kids into being good. It was like the Santa threat, but instead of inspiring us, it made us afraid.

He looked over at me and smiled. "I saw the violin case in your bag. You play anything else?"

I nodded. Music was a good common ground. "Yeah, violin, guitar, and I play around with the piano."

"Impressive," he acknowledged. "My brother Samuel, Da, and I play quite a bit."

We all sat down at the table. Charles next to Anna, who was across from me.

Charles asked, "How long have you been playing?"

"Violin since six, and I've just played around with the others; Nathaniel taught me, for the most part." Nathaniel had learned to play the instruments from his family, who, he'd always said, were very musical. He was born just after the war of 1812 ended. "He's in my father's pack," I said before they could ask who he was. "What about you?"

"Nearly 200 years," Charles said. "Da taught me. Samuel's been playing longer. Extremely longer."

I got a plateful of salad and lasagna.

-------------

I was sitting in my room after dinner. I'd taken a shower, trying to wash away the uneasiness that came back as soon as Anna left the room. Especially with Charles there. I knew well that he could smell my fear. I also knew that he could smell lies. I had no intention of making him show me why he generated that fear.

So I'd excused myself as politely as I could and jumped in the shower. I had a few toiletries, but there was no need - the bathroom was stocked for a nuclear attack.

I stared at my violin. I had an acoustic guitar, but I'd left it with Melinda. I could only fit so much on the bus I'd taken to get here. Well, the bus I'd taken to Missoula and the taxi I'd paid through the nose to take me to Aspen Creek. I'd carried my violin, though. It was little. And I couldn't live without it.

I picked up the instrument and started warming up, playing around with it. A few lines of this song, a few lines from that song. I finally made it around to a Blue October song I'd memorized my junior year.

One thing I liked about the maid I'd that through high school, Amanda, was that she'd loved my music and played herself. "I'd learned plenty of my songs from her. She'd taught me to play by ear. Or, helped me to learn.

Amanda was a white witch, the only witch I'd ever liked. She was how I found out that I was immune to most magics, like walkers. And he'd known that I ran in the woods when I needed to. She'd never really said a cross word to me, save for a few small disagreements.

Before I knew it, I was lost in the music. Eyes closed, I was just lost in the music. After that song, I played an old hymn. Then I started just going through songs I knew. An acoustic ballad, an Italian folk song, a German song, some Scottish (though it always sounded better on the bagpipes.)

I was halfway through _Amazing Grace_ when I heard footsteps. There wasn't a knock at the door. I didn't mind, though. The footsteps had been heavy, so I guessed that Charles was just listening.

I knew one Native American song; it was originally on those pipes that I could never remember the name of, but Nathaniel had taught it to me when I was eleven.

I could faintly hear him humming along, so I made it last as long as I could, then I placed the violin in it's case.

It was a few minutes before I heard him walk away from the door, still humming, with a lighter tread. I couldn't shake the feeling that I might have just made a friend.

My hand had started getting a little sore, though. And I only knew a few more songs.

I sat the case on the bed and sat down on the window seat.

That was the first time I'd felt peace since I'd lived with Amanda. Anna generated peace, but there was something rewarding about feeling it on your own terms.

I fell asleep on the window thinking of how strange it was that the world was a scary, strange place, and it was always topsy-turvy - something was always out of wack, throwing out of balance.

And for the first time in a very long time, I think I was okay with that.

-------------

I was awakened the next morning by yet another knock on the door. Charles said, "Breakfast is on. You like coffee?"

I nodded. It took me a second to remember that he couldn't see me. "Yeah," I mumbled groggily. I mentally scolded myself for falling asleep on the seat again. It was starting to take a toll on my back.

_But the moon was so beautiful last night, _I told myself. _I could see all the stars._

I stood up and made my way to the kitchen. Charles was standing in front of the stovetop, flipping a pancake with a spatula.

I stood there for a minute, just watching him. It was hard to think of him as an assassin while he was in a bright kitchen making breakfast. I also thought it funny that he was humming the song I'd played for him last night.

When he turned, he actually looked surprised to see me. I tapped my nose like a preschooler, telling him that he needed to use his nose. He laughed.

"How'd you know that song?"

I shrugged and grabbed a pancake. "Nathaniel."

He raised an eyebrow curiously. "Do you know how he learned it?"

I shook my head, biting into the pancake.

"Hm," he murmured, turning back to the stove.

I scented Anna before I saw her. She swept into the room with a wave of relaxation that almost made my knees go weak. She swept Charles' long braids back and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I decided this was a great time to check out the house.

The living room was expensively decorated. It was Native American in theme - big surprise - in the center of the room, there was a Persian rug that reminded me of the one my father had bought for Melinda. It was a pretty rug, but I didn't like some of the memories it threatened to drag up, so I explored some more.

There was only one other room with a bed, aside from mine, so I assumed it was Anna's and Charles' room. And there was a bathroom with a claw-foot bathtub and a linen closet, about three times the size of the bathroom I had (which only had a shower stall and a small pedestal sink), but I was glad to have my own.

One door had a set of stairs leading downward. I listened to my nose and believed it was a basement without wandering down there.

It was a small house. Surprising for Charles Cornick, enforcer of the Marrok, and Anna Cornick, peace-bringer Omega.

"Coffee's on!" Anna said loudly, calling me back from the last door, a coat closet.

I had two pancakes and three cups of coffee. They didn't say much; neither did I.

As I was munching on my last bite, Anna said, "So where do you think you're going to stay?"

Mouth full, I gaped for a moment. There was a scary second when I thought they meant where would I sleep the next night, so I said, "huh?"

"What pack are you going to pick?" Charles clarified.

"Oh," I said slowly, contemplating. "I have absolutely no idea. I guess I'm gonna wait it out and see how it goes. The Marrok says there's another walker in Kennewick, Washington, so I probably need to check that out."

Charles nodded. "Yeah, Mercy Thompson. She lived here for about fifteen years before she moved to Seattle with her mother. She is a mechanic, mated to Adam Hauptman, the alpha there."

Anna cut in, "Maybe you should meet with him at the conference next week."

I nodded. "Do either of you know him?

"Not too well," Charles said. "But I know he's a good guy, and a great Alpha. You'd be in good hand."

"Is it possible for me to just… not be in a pack?" I asked. I wanted the real answer. Could I get away with it?

Charles' face didn't change, but Anna looked curious. And Charles was just as curious, I could smell it, but the guy had had two centuries to practice concealing his emotions. "You could, but I doubt Da would want that. The only reason Mercy got away with it for so long was because she ran away - she had somewhere to go."

I pushed my chair back and headed back to my room. It wasn't _my_ fault I had nowhere else to go. It wasn't _my _fault my father was stupid enough to challenge Clyde. It wasn't _my_ fault my mother was dead. And if it was, then I couldn't do anything to help it now.

Anna was coming after me, her bare feet tapping on the wood floors. "Emlyn, he didn't mean it-"

"Just leave me alone for a while," I said as calmly as I could manage.

When I got into my room, I sat down on the bed, and I took a couple deep breaths. I tried to stay calm as much as I could, but when people threw that in my face, even unintentionally, I lost composure. It was a fallacy in the wall I'd built around myself.

Perhaps it was that one fallacy that kept me tied to my humanity. Like Achilles' heel - except it was far from my only weakness.

* * *

Okay, so my vacation was awesome. We were on a houseboat for a week. I swam. A lot.

But I forgot to take a notebook, so I wrote this on two sheets of paper I borrowed.

And I finally got the plotline set, vaguely. So, the question now is, can I follow it?

Also, up until this chapter, I called the town Aspen Springs instead of Aspen Creek. I reread Cry Wolf, so I caught the mistake, but I am too lazy to go back and fix each of the mistakes, so just please forgive me for that breach of grammatical happiness. Haha. So, just pretend I've called it Aspen Creek the whole time.

The song belongs to Nine Days, or whoever happens to own it.

Thankyou to those who reviewed! It makes me happy to read the reviews.

So, please review, critique, whatever you want. I love feedback, and it helps me write.

Please and thankyou!

-Em.


	7. Sideways

**Chapter Seven: Sideways**

"_You know it ain't easy  
For these thoughts here to leave me -  
There's no words to describe it  
In French or in English._  
'_Cause, diamonds, they fade,  
And flowers, they bloom,  
And I'm telling you:  
These feelings won't go away.  
They've been knocking me sideways.  
They've been knocking me out, they…  
Whenever you come around me.  
These feelings won't go away.  
They've been knocking me sideways.  
I keep thinking in a moment that  
Time will take them away,  
But these feelings won't go away."_  
---Citizen Cope's "Sideways"

It was lunchtime when I came out of my room. Anna was in the hall holding a clothes basket of - you guessed it - clothes.

"Hey," Anna said happily. "Do you have any clothes that need to be washed?"

I nodded, "Yeah, but I'll wash them, myself, later.

"Okay," she said. She was being cautious when she said, "Are you all right? Charles didn't mean anything about your parents; he was just…" She trailed off. Then, "Well, I'm not entirely sure. He was trying to help."

"I know," I said.

She had a sympathetic smile on her face. "He's in town; his father called him out somewhere."

I nodded. At least I didn't have to face him now. I knew I had to apologize, but it wouldn't hurt to put it off for a bit.

There was a knock at the front door.

I looked at Anna. "I'm not expecting anyone," she said.

She walked quickly to the front door opened it.

A woman that had dark blonde hair and a menacing look on her face stood on the step.

"Hi, Leah," Anna said. Then, toward me, she said, "She is the Marrok's mate. Leah, this is Emlyn James."

She smiled. "Like Shakespeare's M'lin the cursed."

_Beautiful, _I thought. Maybe she was just as bad as I'd always heard. That was one thing that most of the wolves I had talked to agreed on: that the mate of the Marrok was selfish and stupid and vindictive as all get-out.

I nodded and sucked it up; no use being a baby. Not to mention the power of the Marrok that she carried was seriously scaring me; that kind of power in someone like _that._

Anna cut in, "Is there something you need?" She was trying to sound polite, but I could hear the undertone in her voice that said she was something unhappy. Either angry, or annoyed, or something between the two - it was affecting her peace.

Leah raised an eyebrow, never taking her gaze off me. "No, I just wanted to meet the new recruit."

I smiled, "Nice to meet you." If she could smell lies, she didn't show it.

Leah looked at Anna and said, "Why don't you let me in? I could use some tea."

Anna smiled right back. I don't know how she ignored the direct order that Leah had given her, but she did when she said, "No, thank you."

Leah narrowed her eyes. "You'll learn." Then to me, "You'll be better off going to Washington."

Then she turned on her heel and strode back to her car as if that was the end of it.

Anna shut the door and shook her head for a moment.

"Didn't take her long to make her move," she said.

I couldn't help but ask, "So what exactly was that about?"

"I don't really know," Anna said, picking up the basket of clothes that she'd put on the couch. "I guess she was just expressing to you that this is her territory. Most female wolves are jealous of anyone that could jeopardize whatever they've got - maybe she's thinks that you're a threat to her being mated to the Marrok."

I shook my head, "That's impossible. That connection doesn't break with anything but death, does it? And, besides, why aren't you upset about me then?"

She gave me a grin. "Oh, I'm not worried about anything like that. I can tell just by the way you look at Charles that you're afraid of him - which you're going to have to come to terms with, Emlyn. You're never going to survive in a pack if you're afraid of everyone else in it."

I said nothing.

"I know," Anna said slowly, "how hard it is not to just turn out all the lights and give up."

I wanted to ask, _how on earth would you know?_ But I had heard the expression 'strangling the golden goose,' and I didn't want to do that.

She sighed and sat down on the couch. She patted the next seat. "Sit down."

I followed suit.

"I know you're having a hard time here," she said. "And it's obvious that you don't want to be here, but you're going to have to get over it at some point. I don't know exactly what happened to you. I know you're father wasn't what he was supposed to be, but you're going to have to learn to live with it."

I would have gotten up and walked away, or said something back, but there was no escaping it - she was right, and I did need to get over my past, but it was something that I couldn't just _do._

And then there was a key jangling in the door.

"Charles is home," Anna said, her face brightening a little.

And, indeed, Charles opened the door, followed by Bran, followed by Leah. Charles had a look of disgust on his face, where his father couldn't see him. Leah still had a scowl. Bran's face was unreadable, and with everyone in there at once, I couldn't get a clear scent of anyone's.

Ah, this was shaping up to be an interesting day.

-------------

By the time Anna and I were done in the kitchen, everyone was sitting around the table with a nice cup of tea. Anna wanted everyone to be comfortable and looked after; I just wanted to get out of that room. There was too much tension for me.

Finally, Charles asked, "So, Da, what are we here for?"

Bran seemed to think for a moment; he was staring at his cup of tea as if it held all of the mysteries of the universe in a black and white cup. Then, finally, he looked at me and said, "We've got to decide what we're going to do with you."

I looked around. It was hard, sitting here, in the Marrok's gaze without just falling over and expressing my submission. It was hard with any wolf, even the when they were submissive, but the sheer force of his personality was nearly too much to bear. I vaguely wondered if he demanded this kind of attention when he was human, before I said, "I thought you said I had all the time I needed."

He looked around the table. "I think we should just get this settled."

"Well," I said slowly - I was trying to get the conversation over with as quickly as possible, but I still didn't want to screw everything up, "Then I guess this pack. I haven't had time to even remotely check out Washington, but here I have a place to stay, until I can get someplace on my own if Anna and Charles will keep me, and you've already asked me to join the pack. I suppose I don't really have another option."

"I think it would be better for you in Washington," he said. "With Mercy there, you'll have someone- like you."

I shook my head infinitesimally, "No, there's not anyone else like me, with all due respect. She is a walker, a coyote. I'm a wolf. Not that I would have anything against her; I've never met the woman, I just think I'll be better off here - at least until I have time to think."

Leah cut in, "Isn't that the deal you've already had?"

I said nothing.

"Wait a second," Charles said. "Why are you doing this, Da? You've already told the girl she'd have time to think. The Conference is in four days. Why aren't you waiting for Adam to meet with her before you make her choose?"

Bran looked at Charles with an odd look on his face. I could tell from where I sat that there was something behind that look that maybe only Charles knew.

I got another hint when the look on Charles' face changed, too.

What was going on? Why was he making me choose? And, more importantly, why was there something nagging at the back of my mind that there was something important about that look they'd exchanged, and that it involved me somehow.

But I was surprised when Leah turned to stare at Bran.

He looked down, expressing his submission.

Leah shook her head, "How could you let this happen?" Her voice was quiet - thick with tears, incredulousness.

And then she turned around and walked out. The front door slammed a second later.

I wanted to ask what was going on, but Charles turned to me and said, "Why don't you go-"

I stood up, "I'll leave you guys to talk. I'll be in my room if you need me."

I was halfway down the hallway before they started talking again. They were quiet, speaking in low tones - there was something they didn't want me to know. And, like anyone, I wanted to stand out in the hallway and listen. But I'd learned over the years that curiosity really could kill the cat.

So I shut my door behind me and looked around the room. My violin was still in the case, my books stacked haphazardly on one of the shelves, my duffel bag on the floor next to the bed, still stuffed with clothes and other necessities.

I wanted to keep going with _The Neverending Story_ but, alas, I couldn't pay attention to it. I would be just as busy worrying while staring at the multicolored print as when I was just sitting here thinking.

What would make Leah leave like that?

What, involving me, would make Leah leave like that?

I knew that it didn't take as much to make a werewolf blow up as it did for most humans, but she hadn't been angry.

Leah had sounded hurt.

I thought about it for a second, and I remembered that everyone had had a change of expression at the same moment.

Bran had looked ashamed, Charles concerned, Anna surprised, and Leah, she had looked wounded.

All of a sudden, I wanted to go home. I wanted to be back in my bedroom at Amanda's house, or at Nathaniel's. Anywhere where I wouldn't screw everything up.

I deliberated for a few minutes, just wondering what was going on. Not that I could come up with any good answers. I had never been in a pack. Other than when I was little, in my father's pack, but I hadn't been a part of the pack dynamic. I'd been like Ravine, just a family member of a pack member. I had no idea how things really worked in a pack.

There was a TV in the corner of the room.

I couldn't concentrate enough to read, but maybe even the background noise of the TV would do me some good.

I didn't see a cable box, but there was a VCR, and there were a couple movies.

I picked a couple up and looked at them. One was a John Wayne western, but the other was a Disney movie I'd seen about a thousand times. I put in the Disney movie.

I fell asleep, holding the pillow, watching a lion learn to roar.

-------------

When I woke up, it was dark outside and the moon was high in the sky.

The TV was playing static; the movie had turned off a long time before.

I figured it would be safe by then, and I was really thirsty, so I headed for the kitchen.

What I didn't expect was that Bran was sitting, alone, at the dinner table.

He was still staring into that tea cup. It was empty. I grabbed his cup and went back into the kitchen. Neither of us spoke a word. I got a refill for Bran and a bottle of water for me.

After setting his cup in front of him, I sat down across the table from him.

We were both silent for a few minutes.

Just as I was about to ask what had gone on earlier, Bran said, "I'm postponing the Alphas conference."

I lifted an eyebrow, "And why is that?"

"Because," he said slowly, trying to figure out the right combination of words, "I can't have them here when I'm not in complete control."

I decided it was time to get to the bottom of things. "What happened earlier? Why are you changing all the plans for everything?"

He sighed. "It's hard to explain, Emlyn. I- I'm not even sure what's going on, exactly."

"Well," I said carefully - I wanted to know, but I could tell he was in a fragile state of mind. "Try and explain."

He looked up at me. His brown eyes looked conflicted. They kept going between his human dark brown and his wolfish amber.

Bran sighed. "It all goes back to my mother…"

* * *

Okay, I updated. :]

I wasn't going to - I wasn't going to finish the chapter today, but I didn't get to see Harry Potter (it was sold out), so.

Anyway, the song belongs to Citizen Cope, or whoever happens to own it.

The Disney movie belongs to Disney.

The Neverending Story belongs to Michael Ende or whoever happens to own it.

And everyone except for the obvious - Emlyn and related characters - belong to Patricia Briggs.

Please review!

-Em.


	8. The Better Way

**Chapter Eight: The Better Way**

"_And I am war after ten years of fighting,  
I am there after every time you hear bad news.  
I am not a flame with seven years of lighting -  
And I need you just like they do.  
I am windows breaking in the airplanes,  
Where nothing comes out quite how it was meant to.  
I am what you're feeling in your neck veins.  
Did you get to feel him near?  
Did you get too fond of losing sleep, my dear?  
I am more invisible than you could ever be.  
I am what you wanted, and you're everything I need.  
If you think I'm so terrible, then you are not aware, see,  
I am better this way.  
I am what you're feeling when you're nervous.  
I am what you're hearing when you walk away.  
But better music is giving me a purpose,  
And we want this so bad.  
You are the only thing that just might save me -  
Oh, the thought of it just makes me crazy."_  
---Brighten's "The Better Way"

"My mother was a witch," Bran said. "And she made a pet of a werewolf. Now, Sam was my human son when I was human, and she had her pet attack us - which is why we're both wolves. Then, she took me over."

He took a couple breaths. I could tell he hadn't had to tell this story in a while, or hadn't wanted to. It was obviously hard for him to just to bring it out again.

I wondered why he was telling _me. _Why he didn't just make some simple explanation up and make it seem for all the world true. He was _the Marrok_ after all.

But then, maybe he wasn't like that.

"She had control of me until she ordered me to kill Samuel. To kill my own son - that was impossible for the magic to force me into. I think. Or maybe it was just enough to push me over the edge. I killed the woman."

He looked at me, his eyes betraying his pain. I was going to drop my gaze - didn't want to upset the most powerful werewolf in the continent, especially when he was in this fragile of a state, - when he dropped his.

I couldn't help but gasp. The Marrok was expressing submission to me. To _me. To me. _This didn't make any sense. Any sense at all.

I put my hand over his on the table. "You don't have to tell me. I'm just- I'm just _me. _No need to dig things up that-"

"Emlyn," He said. "I have to tell you these things. It's the only way I can think of to explain to you what's going on; you'll understand when I finish."

I gulped, then I nodded slowly.

The Marrok continued, "For decades, perhaps centuries, I've never been so sure, I let the beast take control. Magic had driven me mad; I killed anything - other than Samuel - that came within miles." He just stared into space for a moment, his eyes flashing amber for a second, then back to brown. "And he finally broke me out of it. I don't know how many I killed - more than perhaps even I can imagine. You do something enough, and it feels like nothing."

I said quietly, "It's a terrible feeling."

He raised his eyes to mine. I thought he was about to ask a question, but then he sighed and just continued. "A while after that - a long while - I met Charles' mother, Blue Jay Woman. As you've probably heard, Charles was werewolf born."

I nodded. Everybody knew that.

"It was possible because his mother was the daughter of a Shaman. She wasn't a witch, not quite, but she had magic enough to hold off her change until Charles was born. The effort killed her." I could see now the effort it was taking him not to break down right here. I guessed he hadn't talked about Blue Jay Woman in a long time.

"She's how I learned that the mating bond was what I needed to silence the beast." The more he talked, the more his eyes flashed back and forth from brown to amber. And each time they flashed, the amber stayed longer than it had before. "But I loved her. And I can't afford-" He cut off, mid-sentence. Then, "I can't believe I'm telling you this."

I looked down. "You don't have to-"

"Yeah," he said, "Yeah, I do. I- just do."

He tried to smile and ended up with a sad grimace. I nodded.

"I realized with Blue Jay Woman," he said, "That I can't afford love. I came so close to becoming the beast again when she died, that I… I just can't do that. I have too much on the line, Emlyn.

"When I first met you, I thought it was just some sort of shy charisma that made the mood change when you walked in the room. Then, I started thinking about it, and it was starting to get harder for me to tell where Leah was. Then our mating bond started… blurring."

Bran sighed. "My wolf… Wolves mate for life. I've never heard of a mating bond breaking for anything other than death.

"My wolf has cut the mating bond between Leah and I- for you."

I didn't know what to say.

I really had no idea.

So I stared down at my hands on the table.

I had come here for help and done what I always did, I had screwed everything up. But this time, I'd affected other people, too. More people than I knew about. I could feel that familiar lump in my throat, that slight burning in my eyes. I blinked quickly, thinking for some odd reason that I couldn't cry in front of the Marrok.

Then, out of the blue, he said, "I'm not forcing you into anything. That's why I'm asking you to weigh your options very carefully. I don't want you to stay here because of any other reason other than the fact that you _want_ to be here."

"But," I said, "You don't want me to be here. It's a danger to-"

"My sanity," Bran finished for me. We both looked down. Stared at the table.

Finally, it set in.

"Wait… I'm your mate?"

Bran seemed to be caught off guard. "My wolf picked you."

"So…" I said, "I'm your mate?" I felt bad, being so ignorant of all of this, but let's just say my father hadn't thought to teach me all the rules of lycanthropy.

He sighed. "It usually doesn't happen this way. Obviously. I mean, the wolf picking you first. Usually, in mating, you get to know the person first, then the wolf chooses. But I'm guessing, this way, it's just the opposite. The wolf picked as soon as he saw you, and whether or not we agree is a whole different equation. Of course, it would make mating easier, Brother wolf choosing first, but it doesn't make it inevitable."

I sighed. "And Leah, what about her?"

"She just felt the mating bond slip away. She was no longer tied to me," he said. He smelled sort of sad but sort of relieved.

I said, "Well, I'll go along with whatever you think is best." It's all I had ever done, all my life. Do what others thought was best. Not that I really minded, though.

"No," he said harshly. "I'm not going to order you around. This is not your fault, and I'm giving you the choice to do as you please."

"What do you want, Bran?" I asked. Would he want to have a new mate, not that I was offering, but it was a very obvious question. If he wanted one, then the only options were stay and go through that or go and not deal with it.

Finally he said, "I want to not have this responsibility, Emlyn. That's what I want, truthfully. But I can't change that. And I can't change what Brother Wolf does."

When he looked up at me, I saw it.

That emotion that had been evading me since he'd busted in the door that afternoon: adoration.

I'd been here less than a week, and the Marrok was… in love with me?

No, that wasn't the question. The question was… what was I going to do about it?

We talked until dawn. Until the bright light of the morning was coming between the mountains and we could hear Charles and Anna stirring.

I smiled. "It's about time for bed."

He laughed. I decided I loved his laugh. It was hearty, happy. "Yeah, I should be going."

As the front door shut, Charles came around the corner. "Was that Da?"

I nodded.

"What was he still doing here?"

I smiled. "We talked. Lost track of time. I'm going to bed. Good morning, Charles."

I still really didn't know what to think. Things were turning out so incredibly different than they had been twenty four hours ago.

The question still remained: What was I going to do?

* * *

Ah, finally got it posted.

This chapter might not be so great, I'm not sure. It was incredibly hard for me to write. I rewrote it three times.

I just find the conversationals hard. At least this one.

The song belongs to Brighten or whoever owns it.

And in the typical fashion of fanfiction, the characters belong to Patricia Briggs; in this case, Bran's story does too. (Unless I made a mistake.)

Everything else belongs to moi.

A BIG thankyou to Tori and everyone who reviewed. EVERYONE.

I mean, those reviews seriously made my day, as I wasn't having a good one yesterday. And I find them very helpful.

**Elskestar** - You can be expecting a situation like that. Not that exactly, but to that effect. ^^

And to **Vrsweetheart914** - if you have an idea on how to do that, I would be forever in your debt. That would be the greatest thing ever.

You know the drill. Read first, let simmer for three to five minutes, stir, then review.

-Em.


	9. Clumsy

**Chapter Nine: Clumsy**

"_You need to understand  
There's nothing fake about this.  
You need to let me in.  
I'm watching you, and  
I'll be waving my hand,  
Watching you drown.  
Watching you scream,  
No one's around.  
And maybe you should sleep -  
And maybe you just need a friend.  
As clumsy as you've been,  
There's no one laughing.  
You will be safe in here.  
You will be safe in here."_  
---Our Lady Peace's "Clumsy"

When I awoke, it was past lunch. Around two in the afternoon.

Anna was on the telephone, so I went into the kitchen and got myself something to drink.

"Yeah, I know… Really? I didn't know she liked those… Charles and I are pretty busy these days… Oh, well we've got a visitor with us. I'm hoping she'll be here for a long while yet… Yeah… Yep, that's the room…" She was going on and on, speaking into the receiver. She saw me and said, "Hey, can I call you back?"

I shook my head. The phone was buzzing. I tried not hear what was said, but I could anyway.

"Well, your sister-in-law wanted to talk to you. But-" a male voice said.

I mimicked talking on the telephone and nodded, making sure I was in her line of vision.

She nodded. "Oh, yeah, I can talk to her."

I stared at the table for a moment before making my way back to my room. Not that I didn't want Anna to talk to me, I just needed to think things over a little.

I started thinking about what this meant. Life couldn't go on as I knew it, could it? There were thousands of wolves in North America, and there was one Marrok. And I'd just screwed up his mating and his marriage.

I thought of going to Washington. I admit it, I even thought of going back to Nathaniel's. They'd put me up for a while, but I didn't want to impose on them. They'd already been too good to be true to me, all my life. And I didn't want to ruin that. Not to mention I'd have to deal with Nathaniel's Alpha. I had no intention of going back to that - I'd live on the streets first.

_I haven't called Ravine back._ I thought. Then, I thought, _I should call her back._

Then Charles knocked on the door quickly and roughly. "Emlyn, you're going to want to know about this."

I was just sitting on the corner of the bed, so I stood and opened the door. It was a small room, not that I minded, so it wasn't more than an arm's length to the door handle.

"What's going on?"

He shook his head, "Get dressed and come on. We've gotta go." He shut the door and clomped away.

I wanted to ask again, but I'd learned a long time ago that when werewolves told you to do something, you did it first and asked questions later.

I pulled on the last pair of clean jeans I had, thinking, _Man, I really _do _need to do my laundry. Like, today._ And the only clean shirt I had left was a plain white spaghetti-strap. I pulled it on and went into the bathroom. I sighed, seeing the tangled, black mess that was my hair, and I wished for a shower, but I didn't see how I could make them wait. So I ripped the brush through my hair, pulling it to it's mid-back length, and watching it curl back up to right below my shoulders. I found a clip and twisted it into a makeshift bun. Little curls fell everywhere, especially around my face, where my hair was a little too short to make it to the clip.

After brushing my teeth, I grabbed my sneakers and headed for the door.

Charles was talking to Anna in the living room. I hopped toward them on one foot, putting my shoe on the other. When I finally got it on, Charles asked me, "You were close to Nathaniel Cunningham's family?"

That wasn't good.

I nodded anyway. I'd completely forgotten about putting my shoe on. It hung limply in my left hand, my right foot still in a single green sock.

"Well, then come along."

I stood there for a moment, stunned. He wasn't going to tell me what happened? He hit me with that, making me worry, then wouldn't tell me why?

But I just pulled my right shoe on and followed.

Bran was in his own Humvee in front of Charles' house.

Charles got the front seat. I slid in the back. Anna hadn't come along. I sat in the middle and leaned forward. "What is going on?"

"Put your seatbelt on." Bran ordered. There was no emotion in it. Apparently he was really good at controlling himself… Or there was something really wrong with Nathaniel's family.

I did as he said and just stared out the window.

Finally, Bran started talking with Charles. "Are you sure you don't want to bring Anna along?"

"No," Charles said. "What's inevitable is inevitable."

Bran nodded to the road.

Again, I wanted to ask, _What on earth are you talking about? _and I wanted to ask, _What does this have to do with them? _but I played my part and sat back and shut up. If they were taking me somewhere, then it was somewhere safe. Hopefully.

We were heading out some way I didn't know. Not that I would or should know the roads in town, I'd only been here ten days.

After a second, I thought, _Wait. I've only been here ten days. _Of _course _they wouldn't tell me what was going on. Just because The Marrok _might _love me, that didn't mean I was in on official business. I wasn't a hundred per cent sure that he would even tell his mate what was going on. If he still had one.

I nervously contemplated my hands as I tried to control my emotions. God, I had been so good at that; I didn't know why that had changed. I mean, I did, but I did not want to think of that right now.

"So you're going to kill him," Bran said. It was obviously a statement, not a question. But Charles answered anyway.

"Quite possibly."

This woke me up. "Alright," I said, trying to sound brave, anything but how I actually felt: afraid, worried, and afraid. "Can someone _please _fill me in on what's going on?"

Bran stared at the road. Charles stared out the window.

I muttered a curse word under my breath and sat back against the seat.

After at least ten minutes of silence, Bran finally said, "There's been an attack."

I sat forward. My collarbone got burned, seatbelt be damned. "Who?"

"Do you mean the attacker or the attacked?" Then, "Your father's Alpha has attacked two people."

I sucked in a breath and forgot completely about controlling my emotions. Before I could ask, I got an answer.

Bran said, "Ravine Cunningham and Millie Lane. I suspect you know them both?"

I said nothing.

My only thought was _Are they alive?_

Ravine was the best friend I'd ever had. And Millie, I remembered her. She was mated to Clyde's Second, William. Human. She'd always been a little pretentious, but everybody had their flaws.

Bran said, "They're both alive, miraculously. We're picking them up at the hangar; Charles is flying out." I wondered briefly whether or not he really could read minds.

It settled in my mind. "They're both… wolves?"

He nodded toward the road.

Great.

I thought, _Ouch. _

I thought, _Should I be happy for them?_

I thought, _I'm really not happy for them._

And I wasn't. By a long shot.

"Why are you guys bringing me, then? Why not Anna, to calm them?" I finally managed.

"Well," Bran said, "Because they both know you. And because you know them. I thought you'd like to be informed of this… development."

Well, of course I would. But it still made no sense to me.

"Samuel is on his way to Aspen Creek," Charles said. "The women still have some healing to do."

"What about Millie's husband? And what are you going to do about Clyde?"

Bran said, "He's with her. Charles is taking care of that."

Flawlessly deflecting my meaning. Of course.

I turned to look at Charles, the seatbelt digging into my collarbone. "Taking care of it _how?"_

Charles turned to look at me. "If you must know, I'm going to check the situation there out and give justice as due."

"Well, _yes, _I mustknow, and what kind of punishment are you looking for? He deserves whatever you can dish out," I said before I thought about what I was saying.

I could feel a small panic attack coming on. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly, trying to make it all go away. I couldn't handle this.

_It was dark, nearly too dark for me to see; but I could see the vague outline of a man in the doorway._

_I shrunk back, heading for the window I kept open, hoping that this time I'd make it. I still held out the hope that I didn't know for _sure _who it was there, but I did. Oh, I did._

"_Girl." He said. He never acknowledged me by my name. Nathaniel had said it was a way of making me - or himself, if he had an inkling of a conscience - think that I was less than human. That this was acceptable to do these things._

_I had always wondered why it was only me. I knew why. I knew I knew why. That didn't mean I had to admit it._

_It was a fucked up, fucked up cycle. And I'd known it would happen again. Worse this time, than the last. Just as it had always been._

"_Don't even think of running." _

_His growl still struck fear down to my very bones, even though I'd been hearing it for years. And years. And years._

_I couldn't resist scooting closer to the window, though. He took a step into the room. I scooted again. We went on like this for minutes. _

_Until I finally pulled out the last of my courage and, in one move, stood, turned, and dove out the window._

_It was a small window, and he wouldn't be able to fit, but that still only gave me a few seconds to strip and shift. It was the only thing I had over him - I was small and quick. He was heavy and bulky and slow and _strong.

_I was running. The houses were fairly close together, this being a suburb, so I dodged between them. It was an older neighborhood, though, so I kept having to go around fences. I knew the way, though. I'd managed it a few times, though it just made his catching me that much worse._

_I could hear him behind me. He was snarling, his jaws open, trying to snap and latch onto me. I went as fast as I could, but it just wasn't good enough. _

_Teeth sunk into my left hind leg. The world kind of went fuzzy for a minute. As he jumped over me, I got flipped on my back and dragged. The world went black._

I knew I was holding my breath when I realized where I was. I knew it because my lungs were burning. Felt like bursting, even.

I wasn't in the car. I noticed the non-moving and the hard, uneven ground beneath me. Charles was speaking quietly with Bran. Bran had his hand on top of my head. He'd been getting my hair out of my face, I guessed. Charles was kneeling on my other side.

"She did this when I took her to my house," Charles was saying. "I never got her to tell me what went on."

Bran said quietly, "We can't have this." He sighed and continued, "With her having broken my bond to Leah, you can be sure she'll be baying for blood before this is all over with. This is a weakness Emlyn cannot afford."

They were being so serious, taking me serious. When I sucked in a breath, Bran looked down at me. "Are you alright?"

I took a deep breath and sat up. They both held me up, like I couldn't handle it myself. "Yeah," I said. "I hate when that happens." I was trying to sound indifferent, like it didn't matter, but I was pretty sure they could see through it.

Charles confirmed my suspicions, by saying, "_What, _exactly, happened?"

I sighed, knowing I couldn't lie. And that I couldn't _not _answer a direct question like that. "I don't know exactly. I say something, or you say something, anything that… makes me drag up… unhappy memories, and I… I just… I'm just out of it for a little while."

I could practically see the wheels turning in the Marrok's head.

"Flashbacks. Like soldiers have," Charles said.

I nodded and said quickly, maybe too quickly, "Don't we have to pick someone up?"

Bran sighed and said, "Yes, we do." Then he pointed a finger at me and said, "We are going to figure this out, later."

Direct order, straight from the Marrok.

I swallowed and nodded, looking down. We all got back in the vehicle and started driving. I tried to just quietly look out the window and pretend what had just happened hadn't, but the tension in the car made that completely impossible.

* * *

Sorry it took so long to post this chapter.

I really have no valid excuse except for writer's block. I've also been trying to work on my other fiction.

Well, the song belongs to Our Lady Peace or whoever happens to own it.

And Bran and Charles and Anna and the Marrokcy and so one and so forth belong to Patricia Briggs.

Lemme tell you, I absolutely love the reviews. I have them saved in their own folder in my email. (I know it's dorky, but... oh, well.) ^^

Like, they seriously make my day.

So, a **HUGE** thank you to everyone who reviewed. And to those that review each chapter, I am forever in your debt.

So, please review. I love the good ones, and I can handle criticism (No flaming, though, please.)

:)

-Em.


	10. Uncertainty

**Chapter Ten: Uncertainty**

"_Uncertainty is killing me -  
And I'm certainly not asleep.  
Maybe I've gone far too deep,  
Maybe I'm just far too weak;  
And that's the last place  
I want to be the last place.  
And there is so much we don't know,  
So we love and hope that it holds.  
Thousands were lost,  
Maybe more.  
The question remains:  
What is this for?  
Maybe it came unexpected.  
Maybe I'm left unprotected.  
And that's the last place  
That I want to be the last place.  
And there is so much we don't know,  
So we love and we hope that it holds.  
And either we say or we show,  
So I'm going to fight for my own.  
I'm holding on until the last,  
I'm holding on until there's nothing left.  
I'm holding on until the last,  
I'm holding on till there's nothing left."_  
---The Fray's "Uncertainty"

We all did a pretty decent job of staying completely silent for the rest of the ride.

Not that it wasn't uncomfortable.

As we pulled up to the hangar, Bran said, "Say nothing of the incident we had on the way up here. They have enough to worry about at the moment."

I nodded and then realized that he probably couldn't see me. Or, I guessed he couldn't. "Okay," I said.

The plane was big, but it was small compared to what I had thought. I had pictured a Boeing 747. Now, thinking about it, it was a rather stupid thought.

I looked around, through the windows, but I didn't see anybody. Nobody.

I was just about to ask when we pulled to a stop next to a truck. Through the window, I saw somebody leaning against the window. The top half of her head was covered in white medical bandages. But, underneath it, I could see long blonde hair with places that were darker; blood, I realized. From the blonde, I could tell it was Millie Lane.

I made to get out of the car, but Charles said, "Stay," and stepped out himself.

I would have thought, _I'm not a dog. _But I didn't really feel like seeing my best friend in bandages any sooner than I had to.

Bran and Charles were negotiating something on the other side of the truck. I could see Charles speaking and nodding and things - the Marrok was on the other side of the cab. I could just see the top of his head. At some times, it was bobbing with speech.

Then, Charles came back around and opened the door to my left.

"You're going to have to move to the truck. It's smaller, and it'll just be Ravine and you and I. There's more room in here for William and Millie and Da.

I nodded and slid over, jumping out of the car (it was a bit too tall for me), and I opened the passengers' side door of the truck. William was carrying a quiet Millie. I could see the pain in her eyes, though, when she looked at me.

William nodded to me, I nodded back, with a small smile. I knew that Millie wouldn't want pity, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. No doubt she'd talked to William about Changing her at some point or another, but he was a sensible person - he would have known she would have an incredibly low chance of survival. He would have told her that he didn't want her to.

"Uh-uh," I heard from my other side.

I turned, "What?"

Ravine was in the back seat. She had her legs laid long ways down the seat, her upper half leaning against the door. I noticed that the back seats had dark tinting; the front had lighter tinting, but darker than Bran's vehicle.

Her eyes were closed, her head leaning back on the window; she had dried blood from her nose to her top lip, some from the corner of her mouth, which barely moved when she murmured, "Uh-uh. You ain't sittin' up there. You're sittin' back here with me."

I couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Alright."

Charles was already in the drivers' seat cranking the engine when I slid carefully in the back seat. Her leg was wrapped in a mediocre fashion, and her thigh sat crooked. It was obvious it had been broken and healed wrong. Charles' brother would have to re-break it. I squeezed as close to the door as I could, but I still jarred Ravine's foot when I shut the door. She winced.

"I'm so sorry," I said quickly. "I'd ask if you were okay, but the answer is kind of obvious."

She laughed once, still never opening her eyes. When she spoke, she didn't move her face anymore than she had to in order to make her words intelligible. "I'm flawless, can't ya tell?"

It was hard, talking to her while she was in this kind of shape. I'd always been the one sitting where she was, with makeshift bandages and broken spirit and she'd always been the one that had been trying not to hurt me more, trying to get my mind off it.

"Yeah, Ravine. You walking down the Halloween aisle of the New York Fashion Show?"

"I'm on in two."

We both laughed, but it was forced, hard laughing; not the girly giggling.

The ride home seemed longer than the ride to the hangar. We tried at small talk, but ultimately, Ravine was exhausted and hurting and just not up to it. And I was just unable to talk about her college life while seeing her like this and thinking of how many years it would be until she got the control to live in such close quarters with humans again.

It took me a few minutes to realize that we weren't going to the Marrok's house, like I'd thought. We were going to the clinic that rested just outside of town.

William carried Millie inside as we pulled up. I asked, "Who's carrying Ravine?"

Ravine said in a low tone, "I can get there myself."

I looked at her crooked leg. "No, you can't. You're leg's healed wrong."

"I. Can. Do. It." She growled. Her eyes growing yellowy.

I held up both hands in defeat. Charles sent me a look. He was a dominant wolf to Ravine. He'd be able to make her do what was best, but it wasn't good to do that this early on. I knew that much. I also knew that it was the Alpha that was supposed to give the orders, if he was available.

He came over to the car. "I'll carry her," the Marrok said.

She sort of gasped at the power he must have had over her but through clenched teeth, she said, "I can do it myself, sir."

He shook his head. "Let me carry you, please."

Please was just a courtesy there. He was ordering her. She may have not been pack, but he was so incredibly dominant over her that she really had no way of disagreeing now.

He carried her like William had carried Millie. Like a bride and groom, if the bride had been the victim of a runaway train.

There was a man inside that I'd never met. He resembled Bran in some ways, though, so I guessed he was his son Samuel. He gave me a small smile and said, "I'm Samuel Cornick."

"Emlyn James," I said.

He said, "Nice to meet you." Then, while the Marrok was carrying Ravine into another room, one that I guessed was to be used for whatever medical procedures need be done, he leaned in close and whispered below his breath, "I will be forever in your debt for getting rid of Leah."

I laughed once before I caught myself. "I couldn't help it. But you're welcome," I replied, trying to speak as quietly as I could.

He flashed me a wide grin. It disappeared as Bran came back into the room.

"I saw that leg," Samuel said. "I'm going to have to work pretty hard on those two. I'll need you," he said to his father and Charles. To William and I, he said, "You both go to the store and get some provisions. Think water and meaty things."

"I have to stay with Millie," William said.

Samuel said, "You can't be here while I'm working on her. You can't control yourself."

I thought about it. William had always seemed nice enough and in control enough. He was Clyde's second, not that that really amounted to much, but he had always seemed to control himself. He was always detached.

"I can," William said, "I just can't leave her while she's like this."

The Marrok stepped in, "You have to." Then, "Emlyn also needs protection. She hasn't exactly made the best of friends here. Go."

I asked quickly, "I'm getting already cooked meats, right? And water - we're thinking cases, right?"

Samuel nodded and walked back into the room where everyone was.

William was about to steel himself into telling the Marrok no, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't force the words out of his mouth.

The Marrok said, "They will both be fine. Give them three days, maximum. Samuel is a great doctor."

He left.

William turned to me and said slowly and lowly, "Let's go."

------

We were in the store, William seething, me waiting on the insane order of cooked hamburger patties to be ready, when he said, out of the blue, "I tried to stop him, you know."

It took me a minute to realize what he was talking about, but when I did, I was mildly confused. He'd always seemed like the mindless follower type. "What?"

"Clyde," He said. "I tried to stop him from doing what he did to you."

I glanced at the floor. This didn't strike me as a conversation that should take place in a grocery store.

"I even tried calling the Marrok," William continued. "But he commanded that I didn't. I could never pick up the phone. Millie wanted to, but I knew he'd kill her if she did."

I nodded. I knew Marie had wanted to call. I'd heard her arguing with Nathaniel about it. He'd said the same thing: that Clyde would kill her. And he would have.

"Is that what happened-"

"No," he said. "As soon as he learned that you were in Aspen Creek, he freaked. Jon, Ravine, and my wife happened to be the closest in range."

I had to think for a moment. "Jon.. Jon - wait, Jon? Little Jon?"

Jon was the baby that one of the mid-pack wolves and his mate had adopted. He was about seven now.

William looked at the floor. "Yeah. He - he didn't make it."

I gasped. Why hadn't Bran told me this? Clyde was killing children, and he still hadn't done anything about it?

But, I hadn't known Jon. And, as incredibly terrible as it was that he was now dead, I was detached from that part of the situation. And I had a job to do.

The woman at the counter told us that our food was done and handed it to us. She didn't look at us oddly - I guessed it wasn't the first time they'd gotten an order like that.

* * *

Okay, I know this took a long time to update, but I've been kind of busy.

Excuses, excuses. Truth is: I just suck at updating quickly. Writers' block nearly set in on this chapter.

Anyways, the song belongs to the Fray or whoever happens to own it.

Your reviews make me so happy. :]

So... keep sending them?

Please? Like, for each chapter?

To those of you who do that already: I really love you guys. You're rad.

Alright, before this gets too awkward, I'm going to let you be your review-posting selves! Because it's five-eleven in the morning and I haven't slept yet. Getting wacky. :]

Reviews are lovely creatures!

-Em.


	11. Still Broken

**Chapter Eleven: Still Broken**

"_And if you looked into my dark, unhappy eyes,  
You'd see the tears that I'm choking.  
And if you touched, if you touched my heart,  
You'd feel the pain I call hoping.  
And don't you know, don't you know I'd die  
For just a lie from you, yeah, a token.  
And even though, even though I know it could never heal,  
My heart's still broken.  
She always said:  
A hey yah, a hey yah, a hey,  
Yeah, I'm still broken."_  
---Blue October's "Still Broken."

When William and I arrived back at the clinic, Charles came outside and said that we were back too early; he said we had to leave, that we should go to his house.

I tried to ask about Ravine and Millie, but William started pleading. "I can't leave her again. I can't let her go through that alone. C'mon, please let me stay. Please, please let me stay."

Charles must have seen the nearly-silent desperation in William's voice. You could say a lot about the man, but William worshipped the ground his mate walked on.

"Let me go see what I can do," Charles said quietly, heading back inside.

William closed his eyes and took a breath. It wasn't long before the Marrok came out. With a sigh, he said, "William, you may stay; Millie didn't need as much done as Samuel suspected. She's resting, and you may have to help with Ms. Cunningham, but you can go in."

William's worry and joy both flooded around him. I could scent every emotion ranging from respect and thankfulness to minor panic. He was gone before I could blink again.

Bran looked at me, "I'm taking you to my home. I want to get to the bottom of all of this."

I swallowed and followed him.

The ride to his house was utterly silent. I hardly dared to breathe, and the Marrok kept glancing over at me, evaluating my mood, I supposed. I didn't dare meet his eyes.

I'd seen his house before, so it didn't come as a shocker to me that it wasn't huge. I guessed that the basement was enormous, though. It seemed like he'd keep a lot of spare room available. Spare room embedded with silver.

But his living room was comfortable. It was both homey and formal at the same time. It didn't look very lived in, but I sunk down in the seats, which allowed me to relax more than I normally would have. In a way, it was hard to believe that there were any problems when looking around in that beautiful room and sitting in that amazing seat.

I nearly asked if I could take it home before I remembered that I was in the Marrok's house and I didn't have a home to take it home to.

I heard him draw in a breath and hold it for a second, pondering what to say. Before he could, I said, "Why didn't you tell me about Jon?"

He actually looked caught off-guard. He never seemed surprised when anybody else said something or did something, but he always acted like I was unpredictable. As if.

"I - I thought you had other things to worry about." He acted like it was alright to just skip over a small detail like the murder of a child. A human child. "I thought about it, but it was obviously hard for you to see Ms. Cunningham in that kind of shape."

Amazing. He had read my mind. But, on the other hand, I'd probably been really easy to read when he told me about Ravine. Not to mention the - what would I call it? Flashback? Blackout? Schizophrenia? - uh, _episode _I'd had on the way to the hangar.

So, I just nodded and said, "It was."

And we sat in silence for a few minutes.

Then, Bran said, "I want to know what he did." I started to say that he probably didn't, but he cut me off, saying, "But I know you don't want to talk about it. And I understand- well, no I don't. But you get my meaning."

I sighed. _He's done lots of things, Bran. No, I don't really want to talk about what he's done to me, but, hell, I guess I've got to. _

I closed my eyes and forced the words out of my mouth. "Beatings, rapes, kidnapping, and flat-out abuse." I swallowed. "Those are some of the things he's done. I don't want to go into details, Bran, but," I shook my head and tried to keep myself from remembering. Now would not be a time to have an… episode. "He's done terrible things. Not just to me; to nearly all of us. He's fucking crazy, Bran."

He looked startled. I guessed I'd never really been blunt around him.

I continued. "You can't just sit here and let him go on. He's evil, and he takes things too far, and he kills anyone that threatens his dominance-"

Bran held up his hand, "Wait. Wait a second." He looked down, kind of around the room, and said, "He beat you? He kidnapped you? He _raped _you?"

I bit my lip and blinked a lot before saying, "Yeah."

He stood up and walked out, grabbing his coat and car keys. Just before shutting the front door behind him, he said, "You coming?"

I followed him. What was he doing? I mean, it was nearly dark out, and Samuel couldn't have been finished with Ravine and how would Bran know if he was anyway and - I gave up wondering and I just followed him.

The air outside was sticky and hot, being that it was late June, as we got back into his vehicle. I bucked up and he started the truck and we were out on the road again when I said, "What are you doing?"

"You're going to Charles'."

Um. Okay, then. "Where are you going?" Why was my mouth working faster than my brain?

"I'm going to Nevada." The way he said it made it out to be set in stone. I didn't try to talk him out of it, though. Doubtless he expected me to.

I said quietly, "I don't have to go?"

Bran stopped the car and turned to look at me. He shook his head slowly from side to side, "You're never going to _have _to go back there if I have anything to do with it. Unless you want to, of course." He stared at me for a moment. I looked down, of course, but I could see his dark eyes, so intent that it seemed they were looking under my skin. It should have been unnerving, but… it wasn't.

After what seemed like an eternity of that, he turned back to the road and gassed the humvee. I wondered what he was thinking, but I didn't want to know, not really. I did know that that had been him x-raying my skull with his eyes, not his wolf.

"What are you going to do?"

He said, "I'm going to stop this. If he has any inkling of control or shame for what he's done, then I'll have mercy."

I thought of how many times he'd beaten me until I saw grey spots, left me slumped in the corner bawling and praying for mercy. I thought, _he doesn't deserve mercy. _Then I thought, _I shouldn't have thought that. _

He deserved whatever Bran gave him. He deserved to lose every bit of blood he'd caused me to lose. Every bit of skin, every cup of tears. Every fragment of humanity.

Then I said something that surprised even myself, "Just kill him quick, Bran."

I knew he'd turn to look at me, but I didn't want to meet his eyes. I didn't want him to know how much I hated the man; it was ugly what I wanted to do to him, how many ways I wished to torture him. I didn't want Bran to see that in me. And I didn't want Bran to torture him. Somehow, it just didn't seem right that he should have to do something like that, no matter how much practice he'd had, for _me. _I didn't deserve it. His wolf deserved better than me.

So I stared at the Montana skyline, where the trees looked black and the sky went from a pale pink in the west to violet to medium to a deep, dark blue in the east that matched my eyes. I could see a single star.

_Star light, star bright, _I thought, _first star I see tonight-_

We pulled up in front of Charles' house. I was about to shut the door when Bran said, "You don't have to be so noble, you know."

I wanted to say that no, I wasn't noble and that he was, but I didn't. I didn't want to say anything and spoil that perfect picture he seemed to have of me, even if it was exponentially incorrect.

He continued, nearly under his breath, just before he drove away, "You deserve so much better than me."

I couldn't turn and get to him there before he drove away.

So I just sat down on the step and looked around, blinking back tears. _No, sir. You're wrong this time. _

I didn't even think to worry.

* * *

Another chapter. I know this one took a long time, and I'm sorry for that, but I have an actual valid excuse.

My laptop crashed. Or something. It said the boot disk was missing (blah, blah, blah, I'm not good with the fixing of computers,) and wouldn't read the installation disk, so I assumed, of course, it crashed. Then a friend of mine tried it and pushed some keys and _viola!_ it worked.

So, yeah. And I had to register for school and sell yearbook ads and fix my schedule, so that took up some time, too.

Other than that, I am sorry, but I shall try again to get the next chapter up soon.

The reviews are marvelous! In every way! So... keep 'em coming. Review, _pleeeaaaassssse._

I shall thank you for it!

-Em.


	12. Rough Hands

**Chapter Twelve: Rough Hands **

_"Was I left behind?  
Someone tell me,  
Tell me I survived.  
And don't look so surprised  
That I'm home - but just for tonight.  
With rough hands  
And sore eyes  
So don't speak;  
I am tired.  
Let's just live through this lie."_  
---Alexisonfire's "Rough Hands"

Before long, the twilight air got too thick and sticky for me to handle. I stood up and stretched out by back before turning to open the door.

When I yanked it open, though, I was immediately bombarded with the delicious aroma of some sort of noodles and parmesan cheese and tomatoes and a fresh pot of tea. I could hear Anna in the kitchen, humming away at the national anthem. When she noticed I was there, she said, "Emlyn, you're home!" Then, more skeptically, she asked, "Where's Charles?"

I said, "He's at the clinic, helping Dr. Cornick with Ravine and Millie. Millie's mate William is there, too."

"Then why are you home?" The way she said it told me she didn't mean it harshly.

"I'm only a risk when I'm inside there," I replied.

"And the Marrok took me to his house. He asked me about- home."

Anna nodded and thought for a second. "So… where is the Marrok?"

"Um," I said, looking down. "He's heading for Nevada."

She sighed and said, "Oh, dear lord." After a minute or two of her just standing there, disapproving of the situation, she said, "I'm making pasta. It'll be ready in a half hour."

I nodded and headed for my room, taking this opportunity to shower. I hadn't thought about it until I passed by the mirror, but I had been around plenty of blood and guts and dirt and sweat today. I smelled pretty rank. As Ravine would have said, I was smelling pretty Schwarzeneggery today.

As soon as I reached the shower, I realized that my previously-dirty clothes were washed and folded on my bed. I made a mental note to thank Anna. She was treating too well. I then took a quick but efficient shower and headed for the dining room. Anna was setting the table.

"Need me to do anything?" I asked. I was dog-tired but I had to ask. "And thanks for my doing my laundry. You really didn't have to, I mean-"

"No problem," she said, flashing me a smile. She put her hand on my arm and said, "And you just eat dinner and go to bed. You're exhausted."

I didn't say so, but I kind of doubted I could sleep. With Ravine and Bran to worry about, even thought I was exhausted, I felt that I'd be awake for days.

I sat down across from Anna and scooped ravioli into my bowl. "This is delicious," I said with my mouth half-full. Bad manners, I know, but sometimes I even acted my age.

Anna said, "Thanks." She winked.

A few minutes of tired silence passed, then the telephone erupted in a chorus of rings. Anna hurried to it, and somehow I knew it couldn't be good news.

She didn't get to say anything before Charles said loudly into his end of the phone line, "Anna, get to the clinic ASAP. The wolves are freaking out and Sam's gone for the moment." He hung up.

I was up and heading to the front door before Anna set down the receiver. It didn't occur to me that I was in flannel polka-dotted pajama pants and a wife beater at that moment. I was worried about Ravine.

Anna ran out and started the car and got in in the same move. I was quicker than her, having already jumped in and shut my door, mentally screaming _hurry, hurry! _

And it seemed like the car was moving in slow motion, trying to make us be late, trying to mock our attempts at speeding up. But the roads were twisty deathtraps and Anna wasn't going full speed. I could see how she didn't want to risk our survival, but I had my hand on the door handle, fidgeting with it, wishing we were there.

It wasn't until then that I thought, _what can_ I _do?_ I was a weakling and I was pretty much raw meat to any wolf in a frenzy. But Charles had sounded overwhelmed; I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. But when I weighed my options, I would rather die trying to save a friend than live and have done nothing.

We pulled into the parking lot and Anna threw it in park and shut the ignition off, following behind me into the Clinic. As I walked in, I was overwhelmed with the scent and sight of blood. Everything that had been on the secretary's desk had been shattered or tossed about the room. I heard snarling and yelling and an odd mixture of a human scream and wolf howl that sent shivers down my spine.

Immediately, I shifted. I had forgotten how lovely it was to shift; it was a strange feeling, bone moving against muscle moving against skin changing shape and texture. My wolf was my hair color, black, but I had stupid-looking white front paws, like I had socks on. I knew my eyes were the light blue color of starlight, rimmed with black.

Fear crept in my mind and tickled down each of my bones in turn. So much blood. So much pain and-

The next sound ensured both my fear and my attention. The sound was maddening and loud and frightening and kind of made the Hunter in my wolf a little giddy. The shriek sounded like a woman's high-pitched wail, ringing my brain against my skull, and it was accompanied in unison by a snarling growl with a guttural intensity so low it seemed to shake the bloody tiles beneath my paws.

I shook my head side to side and forced my fear into remission, letting my wolf take the brunt of the situation, like I'd always done.

I quickly and quietly stepped to the door where I'd left Ravine and Millie, the one where the dual-tone voice was shaking the earth. Just before I poked my head into the room, the front door of the clinic opened and there stood Dr. Samuel Cornick, followed by the Marrok himself. I took a millisecond to wonder what was going on, then I dismissed the thought - it didn't matter how they were here, for the time being, but only that they _were._

Bran met my eyes and motioned me over, another guttural-snarl-shriek rattling in our ears. Without hesitation, he and Samuel both started ripping clothing off, preparing for their Change. I knew better than to make a deal out of it - they were werewolves; that's what they did.

So I turned and tried to investigate, but was interrupted by Samuel near-silently whispering, "no-"

I tilted my head to the side - it was the best form of asking a question I had. I could smell the Change on him, and I could see the magic settling on him, his bones starting to reform.

Quickly and just as quietly, Samuel said with a pained look on his face, "look out for us."

I immediately understood. Changing was painful and hard and time-consuming for werewolves. For anything to even touch them mid-change was agonizing, and for another wolf to attack them then would be devastating. Right now, both Bran and Samuel were at their most vulnerable.

And I was all they had for protection. I pushed away my feelings of insecurity and turned back to face the door, waiting for either them to finish their Change or the door to burst open and for me to meet my own fate.

The ten minutes that ensued were torturous, dragging along endlessly with a few more of the snarl-shrieks poisoning the air.

When their skin was being covered by fur, and they were almost finished, the front door burst open once more, this time by more werewolves, these I didn't recognize.

One of then, one with dark eyes and darker hair and a Spanish tone to his voice looked directly at me and said, "the Marrok called," before lowering his eyes in submission. Apparently the pack knew everything, or at least about my significance to the Marrok.

Luckily for me, though ,they didn't Change. The first man and another one, whose appearance screamed Irish, stood stock still as the Marrok finished changing. I took this to mean they were looking after the almost-wolves, so I headed for that door. The curiosity was killing me.

The Irish man said, "Miss!" his voice was low, like Samuel's had been, but his had a nearly imperceptible Irish lilt, and it was surprisingly high pitched for a man of his stature. "Don't go in there, the Marrok says."

He wouldn't look me in the eye, keeping his gaze on my feet.

I finally understood that the pack had some sort of nonverbal communication. I halfway wished I could tap into it, but I cocked my head to the side instead.

"He says he-" the Irish man stopped for a few moment s before saying, "the Marrok says to get out of here."

I shook my head from side to side - it was an odd thing to do as a wolf, but I managed. Before they could stop me, I darted to the door and peered inside.

The scene was a brutal one; blood stained the walls and floors, the bandages that had been on Ravine and Millie (I presumed) lay abandoned in shreds at random intervals.

One wolf lay bleeding in a corner, her grey-on-grey fur matted with blood. Another stood, panting, over her. Each time the panting wolf began to approach the bleeding one, the bleeding wolf would unleash that haunting sound, half scream, half growl. The battle was apparently over.

Anna stood, still human, with her eyes closed while Charles stood as a wolf behind her. It was obvious she was trying to bring peace, but she was simply magnifying the tension.

I started to take a cautious step into the doorway when teeth sank tentatively into the back of my neck, pulling me backwards. I knew better than to struggle as I was lifted by the scruff and my front paws were raised off the ground and my back paws were left to scrabble against the bloody tile floors. The Spanish man held the door open as my captor dragged me further outside, away from the examination room. The moon was high in the sky. It was only then that the thought registered in my head - where was William? I was positive that he hadn't been in that room and the paws of my captor were an unremarkable brown, not the blue-grey color of William's wolf.

I was finally freed one we reached the end of the parking lot.

When I turned, I saw familiar amber eyes and scented Bran's sweet scent. I sat down and looked away, his piercing gaze a little too heavy for my liking. It felt as if he was seeing more than my fur and eyes and ears and tail, and I wasn't quite sure I liked that feeling.

I wondered why he'd been so set on not letting me enter that room. There wasn't any danger - the two wolves were preoccupied, as were Anna and Charles.

Bran took one last look at my face and then turned and sprinted to the clinic; he was halfway there when a loud, vicious bark rang through the trees. I hopped into the back of Charles' truck, looking around. It wouldn't save me from anything, but I felt better being on higher ground.

When my heart settled down enough that I could lay down, I put my head on my paws and closed my eyes.

I dreamed of a murder of crows, sitting on telephone lines, watching my every move.

* * *

I am terribly sorry for the wait for this chapter.

I took a long time to write it, being that I'm back in school (with four honors classes, Spanish II, yearbook and three UIL events), so I've been kind of overwhelmed with it all.

But I did get it written about a week ago, and then the site wasn't allowing me to upload it, saying there were errors in my file. (There couldn't have been; I tried different files and different computers, even.) But I tried a different file as a whim and it worked, so I had to retype it on here.

Anyways, enough of my whining. Enjoy the chapter.

I'll try to have the next one up in a more timely fashion.

Anyways, you know how much I love reviews. And I think it'd be ah-may-zeeng to be the top Mercy Thompson fiction. So..

Reviews, please and thank you!

-Em.


	13. A Modern Myth

**Chapter 13: A Modern Myth**

"_Did we create a modern myth?  
Did we imagine half of it?  
What happened in a thought from now,  
Save yourself, Save yourself,  
A secret is out; A secret is out.  
To buy the truth and sell a lie,  
The last mistake before you die -  
So don't forget to breath tonight.  
Tonight's the last, so say goodbye."_  
---30 Seconds To Mars' "A Modern Myth"

It's amazing how quickly one can start dreaming.

I was awoken what couldn't have been a half hour later - the moon still held the exact same position in the sky - by the sounds of two wolves fighting.

I was so tired. It took me a few minutes to will myself to stand up and keep my eyes open. As soon as I stood on my four feet, I couldn't help but plop back down on my behind. Even nightmares were better than being this tired.

Not that I had much reason to be this tired; I'd stayed up for days on end, even close to a week, while still alert. But I was tired this time. Maybe it was the worrying in the hind side of my brain, or the fact that my best friend had been brutally attacked and I'd confirmed my suspicions about Bran in one day. The mind can only handle so much in a sixteen-hour-period.

My eyes fluttered. I stood and forced myself to walk a few circles in the back of the truck before jumping down to the asphalt. The snarling and growling and fighting sounds echoed back from the trees.

I crept to the side of the truck to peer in the direction of the building.

The fight was closer than I'd previously thought. And it was bigger.

Two wolves were facing one. It took a moment to register markings and scents, with my brain working this foggily. The one facing the others was brown with a silly white tipped tail, like a cartoon. The other two were a deep blue-grey and a lighter plainer gray.

The Marrok facing William and another wolf.

This was all too confusing. I started to crawl back behind the truck, but the plain grey wolf was suddenly coming to me, teeth snapping.

Pardon the French, but my only thought was, _Oh, shit. _

I tried to jump back in the truck, but I couldn't manage it, in my grogginess. My front paws latched onto the tailgate, holding me up, but my back paws scrabbled against the bumper, I wasn't able to lift them high enough to gain traction on the step thing.

I suddenly realized two things: that there were teeth in my tail, pulling me toward the unforgiving asphalt, and that I stood no chance whatsoever. None. Zip. Nada.

And, I'll admit it, I gave up. Just like I'd done under Clyde's merciless rule, just like I'd done when my father gave up on me.

And when my head hit the tarmac, everything went grey around the edges. And suddenly, it was as if I was watching the battle ensue from above, or beside, or - well, I don't know exactly where I was watching from, but it couldn't have been my body. My brain wasn't working fast enough to catch everything going on in the fight.

Anyway, Bran sprinted over, or tried to, but was caught in the back by William.

He spun, tearing whatever he got first. Muzzle, ear, neck. It was as if he'd unleashed something he kept penned up. He looked, as a wolf, unremarkable. He wasn't huge, he wasn't incredibly muscular, he was, if anything, docile in looks. But that's what the Marrok was, wasn't it? A series of illusions. Mirror after window after mirror after window until you didn't know if what you were seeing was the real Bran Cornick or the Marrok or his wolf or just that - an illusion.

Blood coated the both of them. William fell. Even werewolves can't survive without their trachea.

The other wolf was busy tearing at my muzzle, attempting for my throat - which, by some favorable circumstance, was in a position blocking it from her - when Bran tore at her back leg, flipping and therefore disorienting her.

But she was up quickly. I scraped around, trying to drag myself away. Not only from the grey wolf, but from Bran. He was nightmarish like this. I didn't want to be the next one under his fury.

The grey wolf bit and clawed, attempting at any kind of give, but she really held no chance against Bran.

He just tore. First, it was at the leg he already had in his mouth. Muscle and ligament and tendon gave way and split apart. Then, with her on the ground, still trying to get at his ears or his face, he went for her belly, leaving gashes oozing with blood. Finally, when she stopped biting at him and tried endeavoring his forgiveness, he opened his jowls wide and latched onto her throat. The grey wolf let out one last noise, almost a chortle, before he pulled back, tearing her throat out. The grey wolf went limp.

I was frozen. I hadn't gotten very far in my sad attempts for clawing myself away, and I was afraid if I moved now, he'd come after me next. There was a wet warmth in my left ear, and my head hurt. I was so tired, so fuzzy. I wanted to just lay down and sleep right there, but fear kept me as alert as my half-conscious mind could handle.

I knew my tail was bleeding. And I had deep wounds on my belly and lower neck that were sending gouts of blood over the pavement; their inflictor laying just feet away from me, missing a throat.

Then the Marrok looked up at me, and I saw something in his eyes that I had never seen before. It was a sort of possession, like he was in the back of his head, but he just couldn't control himself. Or he was unable to convey anything that _he _was feeling or _he _wanted to convey. And the look was so malicious and just plain _wicked, _that it was beyond explanation.

He looked as if his amber eyes were not his own, and they were being controlled by a beast so vile that it was…

There really was no way to explain it.

I wondered, was this the burden he carried everyday? Holding this _thing _back? Imprisoning it in some back corner of it's head, where it could only come out when he lost control?

Or was it that _this _was Bran Cornick, Marrok extraordinaire, and the man I'd come to, well, hold fairly dearly was just an imaginary character? Was the Marrok I knew, was he something in my head, an illustration meant to keep order or for manipulation?

Illusions, illusions. Mirrors followed by windows followed by mirrors followed by windows.

I suddenly couldn't do it any longer. I couldn't sit here under his revolting stare and wonder what was reality any more. And the gravel was starting to get into my wounds.

I put every bit of what little energy I had left into standing up, and I couldn't do it.

My midsection was starting to go numb, and my paws were too heavy to move.

So I clawed at the pavement, scratching and scrabbling to pull myself along, away from Bran. I felt so low, like such a weakling and such a wretch, only fit to be dragged around, with the scum of the earth. I knew, somewhere in that ever-so-muddled head of mine, that I wasn't scum, and that, if anything, I was better than the beast staring after me, but I couldn't manage to tell myself that right then. I could only hope that he stayed there, staring in what looked like stupefaction, until I got far enough away to at least have a chance at life.

Suddenly the doors of the clinic burst open, and the outdoor light flicked on.

The Irish man stood there, looking around for, I could only guess, Bran.

But Bran was behind the truck. He wasn't visible from the doors.

I suddenly recognized this as possibly my only hope to get away from that beast in my Bran's body, so I scrabbled and tried to pull myself farther. I felt like a pitiful, dejected _worm, _scrabbling like this, but I put everything I had in it. If I didn't get out now, I suspected I wouldn't.

Luckily, the Irish man either heard or saw me, and he came to where I was, nearly into his line of sight from the door. He initially just asked me what was wrong, but there may or may not have been blood on my back, and he somehow figured out that I had to be carried.

He picked me up (I wasn't heavy to a werewolf; I only weighed about sixty pounds), and carried me towards the clinic.

I could see past the Irish man, from the way he held me, and the last thing I saw before we entered the clinic's doors was Bran. He stood, staring after me, for a moment before darting off into the trees, his head hung in what might have been shame.

I didn't get to think anything before the fluorescent lights blinded me. In my lethargic state, I didn't stand a chance. Everything went black.

-------

Why was it so damn _bright?_

I tried to say, "turn the lights out," but I could feel my mouth not forming to the words, letting out only whispered gibberish.

I probably could have adjusted and seen in the bright lights, but I had a splitting headache which seemed to be trying to crack my skull and rip my brain into pieces. So I put my arm over my eyes and tried to speak again, still only reaching gibberish.

Finally whoever was in the room with me took mercy on me and said, "You want the lights out?"

It sounded like Samuel. I hadn't heard him speak much, but it sounded like him.

"Is she awake?" Ravine. I recognized her voice immediately.

I tried to say, "yeah, I'm awake," but I only mumbled something.

Samuel said, "She seems to be." Then, to me, "You want the light out?"

I mumbled something along the lines of "meh-ah."

Charles flicked the overhead lights out, leaving only a soft lamp on in the corner of the room. I could finally open my eyes partially.

"Yes!" Ravine said loudly, hurting my head more. "She's alive!"

Samuel shrugged, "I could have told you that. You might not want to yell. She's got a concussion, and she shifted on top of that, so-"

"I know, I know, I know. Loud noises, bright lights, ya da ya da ya da." Ravine's voice was naturally loud. And I found myself preferring Samuel's light whisper.

Another voice added to the mix. It was a woman's voice, but it was a little rougher than Ravine's, and a little lower. And definitely quieter. "So, have you heard from your father?"

"No," Samuel said very quietly, as if ashamed himself, "Last I knew he was outside around the time _this _happened."

I opened my eyes slowly, peeking out of one, then opening the other a little, trying to focus. My head hurt so much, but I wanted to know what was going on.

Samuel turned to me, looking in my eyes for once - something I hadn't realized I kind of missed - and said, "Now that you're awake, I can give you some aspirin for that headache you've got."

"Um," I said slowly, trying to get the words out straight, "how did you know-"

Samuel said, "Concussion. You're head might be hurting for a while yet. Here."

He handed me a little white paper cup that had two pills in the bottom, and a water bottle.

I looked at him suspiciously. I wasn't in exactly a trusting mood.

"Take them," he ordered. His wolf wasn't in it though, just his Doctor.

I sighed and took the pills, downing them with a couple gulps of water, hoping it wasn't poison he was feeding me, though I kind of doubted it was.

The second woman spoke again, drawing my attention. "Was it the Marrok that did all that to you?" She had dark brown hair, pulled into a pony tail, and she wore a t-shirt and jeans that had what looked like oil stains on them. Her skin was darkish, suggesting that she was at least partially Native American. I tried to scent her, but my head was still a little fuzzy, and I was having trouble distinguishing anything.

I looked down at my stomach. I was wearing my clothing again, but I could feel the bandages on my stomach and sides of my neck. Thank God I didn't have a tail when I was human. I healed quickly, though. Not like wolves, but plenty faster than humans. "Um, no," I said, still slowly. "It was that other wolf. Not William, that other one." Then, I said, "He - he killed them both, I think."

"You _think?_" Another man, standing next to the woman said. "How do you not know?" This man had dark hair, and he wasn't too much taller than the second woman. Though I couldn't scent him, I knew immediately that he was a wolf, and he was most likely an Alpha.

The second woman elbowed him, "Give the girl a minute, Adam. She just woke up."

I was starting to feel the wounds on my stomach, from the awkward half-sitting, half-laying position I was in, so I sat up and straightened out as much as I could. I was on a comfortable couch. This seemed to be somebody's living room. It took me a minute to see that it was in fact the waiting room of the Clinic.

Ravine was immediately sitting on the arm of the couch. She was combing my hair with her fingers. "Luce," she said, using her mom's lifelong nickname for me, Lucy, "everything's gonna be fine. Just try and stay comfortable, 'Kay?"

"Um, yeah," I said.

The second woman walked over to shake my hand. "I'm Mercedes Thompson, call me Mercy, and that impatient man over there is Adam Hauptman."

I said, "You're the other walker?"

She nodded. "That's me."

I smiled. "Nice to meet you."

Then Adam said, "So, did the Marrok kill the other two wolves," he sighed, "or did you?"

I couldn't help but laugh, which made my stomach hurt something awful, so I stopped and winced and said, "No. No, I wouldn't stand a chance against them. It was Bran."

Adam nodded and stared at the floor, seemingly trying to guess Bran's motives.

I continued, "They ganged up on him, then the female came after me. He tore William's throat out trying to get to me and the other wolf's for attacking me."

Only then did I notice how much of a baby that made me sound like. I was a supernatural creature who should be able to take care of myself, and I couldn't. I had to have a _werewolf, _for God's sake, save me. After I'd hated all wolves down to my very bones for seventeen years.

But Bran was different.

Then I remembered that look in his eyes.

Then I asked, "So, y'all are having problems finding him?"

Samuel said, "Yeah. You're the last one that saw him."

"He ran off into the woods on the left side of the parking lot," I said. "I don't know where he went then." Then, "Has anyone spoken to Charles? About what happened with William and the other wolf?"

"That other wolf was William's mate," Samuel said.

I had known that, somewhere, but I was still a little shocked. Again, I'd never really liked her much or gotten along with her well, but I hadn't really liked any of the pack or gotten along with them, aside from Nathaniel's family.

Then, slowly, Samuel continued explaining. "Apparently, his mate went crazy, smelling your friend here's blood, and, for some reason, William did too. I think it may have been the mating bond, but I don't know. Anyway, Charles protected Ms. Cunningham - who still shouldn't be sitting the way she is -" he glared at her, trying to make her sit more like I was, I guessed; she was, after all hurt worse than me, "-and then he called Anna. At some point, he Changed and attacked William's mate, which, I guess, was why she was making those noises. But, oddly enough, she was alright enough to attack you. Those wounds on your stomach, by the way, aren't very deep. They should heal fairly quickly; you shouldn't strain yourself or change for the next week or so and then you'll be fine."

I nodded. I didn't feel very hurt. Except for my head, which was starting to fade to a dull ache, rather than stabbing pain. If he said a week and didn't know about my faster healing, I'd be okay in about three days.

Adam said, "He better show up pretty soon, or I'll have to take over for the Alpha's conference. Everyone's set to be here tomorrow morning."

Everyone else nodded. Ravine asked, "People are out looking, aren't they? We can't have all the wolves thinking that the Marrok's gone. Or, worse, gone crazy."

Mercy chuckled and said, "Bran Cornick's been crazy for a long time."

"Ever since you broke his Porsche," Samuel said, shaking his head and mock tsking.

I wanted to ask, but it was obviously an inside joke, as only Mercy and Samuel were laughing.

I started to try to stand up as Ravine stood to take a seat beside me on the couch.

"Who's out looking?" I asked. I hated to break the awkward after-silence, but I wanted to know, dammit.

Samuel said, "We've got Tag and the Moor out - they left after Tag brought you in, and Sage, and plenty of the lower wolves. And Charles is going to look later today; Anna made him go home and rest awhile beforehand."

I guessed that the Spanish man was the Moor. I'd always heard about him. It kind of frightened me that I hadn't realized it was him. More illusions.

I nodded. "Is there anything I can help with?"

Samuel said, "You can't shift, just yet. You'll rip out your stitches. I suppose the only thing you can help us with is finding Da. And even you can't find him if he doesn't want to be found."

Adam added in my direction, "Well, I can't say anything for Mercy, but I'd say you probably shouldn't let yourself alone without a werewolf."

"I won't," I said a little too quickly.

Adam and Mercy both stared at me, but said nothing. Ravine jumped in and said, "Well, c'mon Emlyn. We've got a lot to catch up on." She stood up and beckoned me to follow her to one of the examination rooms toward the back.

She sat down on the seat in the corner and winced, her hand on her leg. I sat down on the examination table-thing.

"Whoa," she said slowly. "Seems like you've got yourself in some deep shit, girlie. Suddenly, I don't think you want to hear much of my one years' college life."

I said, "Well, it wasn't by choice, really. The last think I need right now is a mate."

"Oh, so you two _are _together? And maybe it's just the thing you need, someone to hand feed you for a while instead of making you work harder for everything." Then, "I mean, it's _the Marrok._ Do you know how great that is? You get all the perks and everything."

I said nothing. I knew either way, I'd be admitting she was right and sounding like a baby simultaneously.

Ravine cracked a grin, "Plus, you got me here. And that man is a hunk."

I asked, "Bran? Yeah, I know." I thought of his wolf, with that adorable dipped-in-paint tail, and I couldn't help but smile.

"No. Well, I mean, he is too," Ravine said, still grinning, "I meant doctor-man out there."

"Samuel?"

"Yeah."

A short awkward silence ensued. Ravine said, "I don't know. I just think he's nice to look at. And he's nice."

I wanted to say something. This was just like Ravine, to randomly crush on a guy, but it was different this time - it was Samuel Cornick, son of the Marrok, werewolf-doctor extraordinaire, not Jason from the local high school football team.

Then she broke the silence again.

"So what's going on between you and the Marrok? I haven't really been updated on all of this."

"I don't know really." And I spoke the truth. "I guess his wolf just… chose me. His previous mate, Leah, just got kicked out of the mating bond, or- something."

Ravine said, "I hear she was quite a bitch, anyway."

I said nothing. I'd always heard that she was bitch, too. And I couldn't deny that the one time I'd met her she'd seemed like one. I just nodded, slightly.

It was only a split second before Ravine exclaimed, "Guess what, guess what? If you get the Marrok and I get Sam, you'll be my step-mother-in-law!"

* * *

Ah, I'm sorry about the wait for this chapter,

but I have been uber busy with school and whatnot,

even though I know that's not a good enough excuse.

And I get that some of you are getting tired of the suspense, suspense, suspense "cliffhanger" endings,

and I'm trying to work on that, but I don't really know any other way to end a chapter.

But I'm trying.

And I'm trying to add some humour, but I'm just not that good at writing humour.

Anyways, I'm working on the next chapter, and I'll have it up as soon as it's done.

Please please please review! It makes me feel special. I especially like the constructive-criticism reviews. They help more than you think they do.

Please and thankyou!

-Em.


	14. Dear Agony

**Chapter Fourteen: Dear Agony**

"_I have nothing left to give -  
I have found the perfect end;  
You were made to make it hurt,  
Disappear into the dirt.  
Carry me to heaven's arms,  
Light the way and let me go.  
Take the time to take my breath,  
I will end where I began.  
And I will find the enemy within,  
Because I can feel it crawl beneath my skin;  
Dear agony,  
Just let go of me -  
Suffer slowly;  
Is this the way it's gotta be?  
Dear agony."_  
---Breaking Benjamin's "Dear Agony"

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Ravine recounted tales from her college life while I did my job as best friend and listened. It seemed to me that talking about something normal kind of helped get her mind off of everything else. And it helped me also, hearing about hot boys and good coffee and weirded out room mates.

It was sundown before we knew it, and Samuel came into the room.

"You two are going to stay at Da's house tonight. We're not posting a guard, so you shouldn't go outside." He smiled a weary smile and sat down on the chair. He'd been out running today, helping the search for the Marrok.

Ravine asked, "No guard?"

Sam replied, after a long sigh, "We would post one to keep you two safe from any over aggressive early alphas, but we really can't lose the manpower that would take; we've to all the wolves in the pack doing different things to help prepare for the Marrok's meeting without the Marrok. Not to mention that you'll be there, Emlyn, and he's more likely to show with you there, whereas a guard might accidentally send him further away."

Ravine snorted. "Boys."

Sam continued, "If I know my da, and he's in at least part of his right mind - which I presume he is - then he's going to guard his home place. And if you are there, he will not allow anything to happen to you."

I nodded. It sounded nice and all, the way Samuel had said it, but it made me angry that Bran was being so childish. It's one thing to not know how to deal with your problems or be overwhelmed by them, sure, and for me to say that running away was wrong would be hypocritical, but at a time like this, it was just kind of not an option. And I knew he knew that, which is what pissed me off the most.

It didn't help that he was leaving me alone during the alphas conference. Hundreds of wolves concentrated in one small place - not the greatest way to leave a good impression.

It was equally childish of me to want him there to protect me, but I didn't want to be alone in a town full of the creatures which I had always feared the most.

-------

Samuel gave us a ride in Bran's humvee; it was after dark and the woods looked sinister, like they were reaching their limbs out, begging for someone to attempt entrance.

Ravine was engaged in some conversation with Samuel in the front seat. I sat in the back, watching the moisture leave little trails diagonally down the window, stripes of humidity blocking a complete view of the black trees blotted by a black, starless sky.

Ironic, how the rain was in accordance with my mood - just like the movies.

The plan had been that Samuel would drop us off at the house, then he'd meet with Adam and Charles and Asil and some others in order to figure out the conference.

But Ravine, in typical charm, convinced him to stay for a few minutes and let her make him some coffee. Even if it didn't wake him up, she said, it would make him feel a smidgen better than he felt right now.

So he unlocked the door and let us in, and Ravine headed straight for the kitchen, at Samuel's directions. Samuel sunk into a chair immediately.

"You're exhausted," I said, pointing out the obvious, "You need some rest."

He chuckled, his eyes still closed, "I've been much worse."

I said, "That doesn't change the fact that you need some rest."

"Yeah," Samuel sighed. "I know. But I just can't afford it right now. The alphas are descending, and Da picked a damn fine time to play the distressed hero."

I said nothing. It was my fault, and I knew that. Samuel said nothing, and I knew he was thinking the same.

We sat in silence until Ravine came back in, holding a steaming violet mug of black coffee.

"What's with the dead silence?" Ravine smiled a bright smile and handed the coffee to Sam.

He took a long swig and raised an eyebrow at her.

I stood up and walked out. It seemed to be that since we were staying here for the night at least, maybe for the remainder of the alpha's conference, that I should know where everything was. And it was also just a peachy perfect time to leave, with Samuel pissed off at me and Ravine playing her typical part of charming young woman.

The bottom floor didn't interest me much. I headed straight for the stairs, going through the rooms to find something hopefully to keep me occupied. Maybe a computer room, or even just a peaceful place. Surely, being the Marrok, Bran would need somewhere to feel peace.

My search brought me through four bedrooms, one of which smelled distinctly like Leah, and another like Bran, but her scent was slightly intertwined, as it was throughout the house. Had I been a dominant female werewolf, it would have driven me mad, but I was me. I would have, oddly enough, preferred Leah to still be around and for me just go somewhere to find solace. Maybe Australia. I couldn't help but think that the Australian wolves would be fun-loving, just like most Australian people I'd ever met. (Not to mention the awesome accents.)

Then I came across a bathroom that, compared with Charles' house, was lavish, with a Jacuzzi tub and three-head shower and black-and-white tile. I didn't even glance in the direction of the mirror - I knew I looked pretty rough.

Then I found what I thought I was looking for. And office.

Well, more of a library, really, with it's walls of shelves of books and what looked like a comfy set of matching leather chairs in the middle, complete with footstools and side tables. They were angled in opposing directions, one facing the left and the other the right, but they were tilted so that the natural light from the windows would provide good light for reading. Alas, it was nighttime, so I flicked on the light to see that there were lamp-like lights on the walls, near the ceilings, that gave a low, yet plentiful, light.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me; taking off my shoes before I stepped onto the expensive-looking rug. IT was decorated in dark greens and burgundies and browns and tans, and the sides were tied off like rope. It was huge, covering mostly the entire room, save for a foot or so of dark hardwood around the edges.

I walked around the room in my socks, looking at the titles of the books that were about eye-level with me. He had everything.

Science textbooks, English literature, histories, poetry, medical books, mythologies, mysteries, science-fiction. Everything from _Transactions of the Bristol and Gloucestershire Archaeological Society _to _The Art of Racing In the Rain._

And those were just the ones in English.

I was too paranoid of damaging the old books, the first editions, so after a half-hearted scan of that row, I pulled out an old paperback. It was rather thin, maybe a hundred pages, and the cover was falling off. It had random price tags on the back, so I guessed it had multiple garage-sales under it's belt.

It was called simply, _Poems,_ and it was a compilation of short-length poems from names I didn't recognize and names I did.

So I started reading it out loud to myself. Poetry always sounded better out loud, and best in an English accent, I thought. So when I read poetry to myself I always either read it out loud in an accent or imagined it in one. It was an embarrassing confession, but it was one I'd always had.

-------

I woke up in the chair with a book on my knee. I sat up and looked around; someone had turned the light off, and the shadows were elongated by the mostly-closed curtains. All was silent.

Except it wasn't.

I heard breathing, but I couldn't tell from which direction it was coming from. The only upside was that it was slow, contented, rather than what a battle-ready wolf or intruder might sound like.

I was already panicked and scrunched up in the chair, my knees drawn up to my chest and my feet dangling in the air in front of the chair; I was holing myself in the air with my hands on the arms of the chair. A thousand thoughts of a thousand terrible things raced through my head, then I sucked in a long breath.

I could scent my own panic - very smart of me, to panic - and I could scent whoever was in the room with me. It should have taken me a second to place, but it didn't. I knew as soon as it registered that it was Bran.

The lights flipped on and he was suddenly in front of me, crouching before the chair. I hadn't had time to react and not look like a deer in the headlights, yet. Bran looked worried.

"What's wrong? What has happened?" He asked. I could see all the thoughts racing through his head, so I tried to stop them.

"N-nothing. I'm fine. I just didn't expect you to be here." I wanted to ask a thousand questions, but I knew that this probably wasn't the time. Or was it? I wasn't sure, so I waited for him to talk.

He sighed and sat down on the floor; I couldn't help but notice that he was keeping himself where I had to look down to see him. Making sure I didn't see him as a threat. "I am sorry. I did not mean to scare you."

I shook my head, "I'm not scared." It wasn't a lie. I wasn't scared - now.

When he didn't speak, I asked, "So…" I paused. Then, "What happened?"

He avoided the answer he knew I wanted. "Your friend was asleep on the couch after Samuel left and I scented you outside, so I Changed and came to look for you. How are your wounds?"

"They're fine," I said. They weren't, really, after my impromptu attempt at becoming a contortionist - the bandages were loose now on my stomach and neck, and I was starting to feel the wounds again as Samuel's medicine wore off and I woke up. Forget my quick healing, my stomach was going to be hurting for a while.

I must have whimpered or something, because Bran was suddenly at my side, still below my level with his hands out to me, one at my shoulder and one towards my hip. "Emlyn, don't overwork yourself; you need to lie down."

I shook my head, "Hell no. There's nowhere to lie down and now I'm thankfully awake. I'll be okay." It was the truth - I _would _be okay, I just wasn't right now.

Bran just raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, how about this - I want to talk to you before you go running off again. Is that alright?"

I hadn't meant to say it like that; something was obviously wrong, and I had just acted like it was just him being moody. He looked hurt for a split second before carefully masking his emotions again.

Illusions. Mirrors behind windows behind mirrors behind windows.

I knew I had struck a nerve, though. So I smiled sympathetically (and probably pretty pathetically, my stomach was hurting and I wasn't a good actress), and said, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'll listen if you do." I hoped my curiosity didn't come across in the way I said it.

It was sort of awkward, having the leader of all the wolves in North America below my level, so I carefully maneuvered myself down to sit cross-legged on the floor next to him. He still kept his mask of emotionlessness, but I could see the curiosity in his eyes.

He sighed and started talking, his voice surrounding me, as a master storyteller's always does. I figured that he'd had enough years of practice to enchant his listeners, and he already commanded attention when he walked in a room if he wanted.

He spoke like a master storyteller, closing his eyes and waving his hands in the air as if he was picturing the scene himself.

I listened.

* * *

Okay.

My computer has crashed.

And I've been sick for about a month.

So, I have an excuse. But I'm sure that's not what you want to hear.

Anyway, I have a Mac until May, so I can now continue my writing,

and post it using a borrowed laptop.

Thank you in advance for the forgiveness. I'd be one angry reader if I liked a story.

So, um, I know it's asking a lot, but reviews are always welcome. They make me feel accomplished to hear anything about my writing.

Again, my most sincere apologies. I'm almost finished with the next chapter, but I don't know when I'll be able to get on fanfiction again (the Mac is a school computer that has most websites blocked.)

I'm really trying, you guys.

-Em.


	15. Someday

**Chapter Fifteen - Someday  
**

_"I don't want to wait,  
I just want to know,  
I just want to hear you tell me so.  
Give it to me straight;  
Tell it to me slow.  
'Cause maybe, someday, we'll figure all this out,  
Try to put an end to all our doubt,  
Try to find a way to make things better.  
Maybe, someday, we'll live our lives out loud,  
We'll be better off somehow, someday.  
'Cause sometimes we don't really notice  
Just how good it can get.  
So maybe we should start all over,  
Start all over, again."_- Rob Thomas' "Someday"

We stayed that way until well past sunrise. My guess is that it was around eight thirty that Bran finished his tale, coming into the part about his more recent Marrokcy.

I sat, thinking, as he stared at me. He was judging my emotions, I supposed. You'd think someone raised around werewolves - and half one herself - would have learned to mask her emotions, but I was terrible at it. What I thought was usually pretty obvious even to someone who _couldn't _read body language.

"What are you thinking?" Bran asked. I guessed it was just to validate what he knew.

I said slowly, carefully, "I'm thinking that it's remarkable how you've..." I thought for a second. "That you've not gone crazy." There were so many layers, so many parts to him and his story. There had been points through the night where he'd broken out speaking some foreign language (later, I found out it was Welsh - his first language), his irises yellowing, but I'd done my best to be patient, and he'd eventually realize it and just breathe for a minute. I understood what it was like. What one felt when explaining a past that could have and should have and would have broken you.

He grinned a grin that lit up the room. His grin was lopsided, the left side of his face pulling into a full-on smile. "Don't worry," he said. "I have."

Then he abruptly stood up. I was surprised that I didn't jump or panic. He held out his hand. "You need some breakfast."

I took his hand and gingerly stood up. I might have been able to ignore my stomach while sitting down, but as soon as I moved, it felt like I was still dragging gravel through it. Screw my fast healing, I'd be down for more than a day or two.

When Bran saw me wince, his smile instantly faded.

"No worries," I said. "I'm fine." Lie. "I'm not that hungry, anyway." Lie. "Besides, you've got to go to that conference if you don't want problems with your alphas." Truth.

He said, "My sons and Adam Hauptman can handle it until you're taken care of. Seems to me like you need your bandages changed."

I could smell the blood on them, too. I'd moved just a little too much in too short a time. But he needed to go, now. The conference had started at eight, presuming the others hadn't postponed it a small bit.

"Go," I said. Giving orders to the Marrok wasn't the brightest idea for anybody, but maybe - just maybe - that was a perk of being inadvertently mated to him. "Now."

His brown eyes lightened the tiniest bit, but he inhaled and set his jaw, and they darkened again. I remembered my stepmother saying once that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Maybe she'd been right for once.

"Giving orders?" He asked. "Seriously?"

I nodded and made sure to meet his eyes. If luck was on my side, he'd not take it as a challenge against his rank, but instead he'd listen to me.

Finally, after what seemed like a year in slow motion, luck decided to come to my side. He sighed and said, "You're right. But I'm sending Samuel back to change your bandages."

I nodded. I could handle myself for another ten minutes. Maybe Samuel would even let me take a shower. Or at least wash my disastrous hair.

Bran put his hand on my arm, nearly at the shoulder. It wasn't a personal touch at all, but at the same time it almost made me flinch at the intimacy. The Marrok was all business, no warmth. Coming from him, that was warm. Which should have bothered me.

"Everything will be alright," he stared at me for a second. "I know it seems like it won't, but I promise you that you are safe now."

An unpleasant image of Clyde came into my mind, but I mentally shook it away. I was in the Marrok's house. As unbelievable as it was, he'd be killed before he could get in the door.

I nodded.

His hand tightened on my arm and his eyes flashed gold for a second before he walked away.

I wondered how many times he'd been forced to walk away because of duty or honor or responsibility. I wondered how often he'd stayed. I wondered how often he'd wanted to stay.

-------------

I didn't move a muscle until I heard his motor start out front, and he'd started driving.

Of course, I headed straight for the kitchen. If I was going to stay alone all day, I'd do it on a full tank. And since Bran was gone, I didn't have to hide all the winces I made with every step I took for his sake. I even managed a yelp when I almost missed one of the steps in the staircase, something I couldn't have afforded if he'd been around.

But after the treacherous stairs, the flat ground didn't seem so bad. I also knew that I'd feel a lot better had I slept or even not sat slumped over all night. I'd get over it soon enough as it was.

I took a good look around the marvelous kitchen - it was light and airy and big and a bunch of other warm, wonderful adjectives - before I saw a radio on the counter. It was shoved back into a corner and didn't look like it's been used in the past thirty years. It resembled a Victrola, I thought, but I wasn't sure.

But when I plugged it in and turned the knob, the speakers clicked and it worked perfectly.

I tuned it to some radio station coming out of Helena that was broadcasting the top 40 hits of the week. I sang as I explored the kitchen, looking for edible things.

_"So one day he found her crying / Coiled up on the dirty ground / Her friends finally came to save her / And the rest you can figure out / But it was a trick and the clock struck twelve / We'll make sure / To build our home brick by boring brick / Or the wolf's gonna blow it down / Keep your feet on the ground / When your head's in the clouds / You built up a world of magic / Because your real life is tragic / If it's not real you can't hold it in your hands / You can't feel it with your heart / And I won't believe it / But if it's true you can see it with your eyes / Oh, even in the dark / And that's where I want to be..."_

I sang along with Paramore as they blared from the radio. I found everything I needed for homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches and set everything out on the island bar that stood in the center of the kitchen. I was surprised at how well stocked his kitchen was, but then again, he was an Alpha (the Marrok, but an Alpha nonetheless) and Alphas always had food. Always. It might as well have been in the rule book.

I went about making the tomato soup and singing. It was hard not to start dancing at first, but after the first few accidental twists that seemed to contort my insides in mysterious and painful ways, my body remembered to stop, so I sang twice as loud to make up for it.

Though no one had ever accused me of being a good singer - and they would have been lying if they had - it was hard not to follow the radio's lead. And besides Samuel when he got here, I didn't have to worry about anyone hearing me.

I got so engrossed int he music that I didn't hear the front door open.

Samuel's scent reached me before he did, but he came into the kitchen pretty quickly. I didn't turn to acknowledge his presence, and waited on him to comment on something instead.

"Tomato soup?" The first words out of his mouth. I nodded, and he continued, "Italian. Mmm. Way better than sitting around in a group of Alphas."

I turned in time to see the smile flash on his face.

"I take it you got some rest?" I could see it in his face. The exhaustion that had been etched around his sky colored eyes was gone.

He nodded. "And I take it you convinced my father to show up?"

That wasn't exactly how it happened. He'd found me, I'd just made him leave. I nodded anyway, not wanting to explain myself.

"Well," he said, giving a slightly Chaplin-esque bow, "I give you my express thanks."

Barely a moment more, and he sent an accusing look my way. "You need your bandages changed."

Oh, right.

This should be lovely.

"I haven't started cooking yet. Would it be alright if I take a shower before you put new bandages on?" I felt disgusting, and that wasn't something new bandages alone could fix.

Samuel contemplated, and said finally, "I don't think that is a good idea. You don't need to get soap in that wound. And I doubt you really want to see it right now anyway."

I said, " I don't care what it looks like. I need to take a shower. I need to be clean. Please, Samuel."

In a rare fashion for werewolves, he conceded. He shrugged, said, "If you say so," and took a huge bite out of a tomato.

It was different, but I didn't mind that if it meant I could get cleaned up. I maneuvered around the massive wall that was Samuel and made my way upstairs to that lavish bathroom I'd found last night. I wasn't surprised to find that it was well stocked.

After shutting and locking the door, I explored the cabinets, finding two stacks of pastel colored towels that, when I pulled one out and unfolded it, seemed to be as big as me, fluffy washcloths, and extra supplies that could have cleaned everyone in the state.

When I peeled my clothes off and turned toe water on, I took the time to look in the mirror. Shocked wasn't really a good enough word for hair looked like I was attempting a messy imitation of Medusa, and I had a few small scratches on my face accompanied by big scratches on my shoulders and arms and gashes on my neck. My stomach took the trophy, though.

I'd smelled the blood earlier, but I didn't know I'd bled that much. The gauze was soaked through, and though it wasn't dripping just yet, it looked dangerously close to doing so.

Sam had told me I didn't need to stain myself.

Maybe I needed to learn to listen to doctors.

I suppose jumping around in surprise and changing positions often hadn't helped much.

With a sigh and a wince, I pulled my bandage off. It hurt more than it should have, and I realized once again that Samuel had been right.

I didn't want to see my wound.

-------------

One very cleansing and slightly miserable shower later, I carefully took myself downstairs. I'd gotten soap and shampoo in my wounds (which burned a whole helluva lot worse than one would expect), and now I was walking around the house sans bandage.

Before I stepped into the kitchen (where I smelled tomato soup cooking and grilled cheese grilling), I took a breath and straightened myself up. I'd been wrong, but I didn't want Samuel to know that my stubbornness had left me worse off than otherwise if I could help it.

He had the radio going, as I had. I had to stifle a laugh at him rapping along with Lil Wayne (on a song I think is named "Down," but am not sure). I wasn't sure he even knew the words, since he seemed to be making it up as he went along. He was doing a good - if hilariously nonsensical - job, though.

_"Even though the sky is falling- / Down like the wind should be / Oh, her name is Shannon-Dee / Down like her temperature / 'Cause I'm the doctor, yeah that's me / She's got gold on her rings / Girl got those from overseas / She's the next Miss America / Now what will she do next, oh geez / Something's going on / On the battlefield of love / Hey look it's baby cupid / Hacking into some dot-Gov. / Tomato soup's really tasty / Especially with some grilled cheese / And seriously I am cooking 'cause I'm hungry / Yeah-"_

He stopped and spun around, as if just realizing that I was there. Maybe he was really into it. I shook my head and chuckled as I carefully stepped into the room.

He cleared his throat. "So," he paused, "You heard that?"

I nodded with a big smile. "Now all you need is some saggy pants and a backwards hat."

His ears turned red as he turned back around. "Oh. Well, um..."

In the silence that ensued, Ravine walked in. She'd always been one to sleep late. I'd forgotten she was here.

She fumbled around and found a coffee mug and stared at the coffee pot as if it had committed a sin against humanity.

"Why... There's no coffee?" Sleep slurred her speech.

"No," I said, "No one thought to make any."

She hung her head and went straight to the fridge, pulling out some orange juice and pouring it in her mug. "Mornings... suck."

"Of course they do," I said. "That's why you always miss them."

"If I can, yeah."

Samuel said, "Well, lunch is almost done."

Ravine slumped down on the stool next to mine. "Ugh."

I wanted to tell her that I had gotten only about six hours of sleep due to Bran, but I didn't want to bring it up in front of Samuel. Or anyone, really. It was strange, but I didn't want to tell anyone about that morning and I hoped Bran didn't either. It was ours. It was mine. Mine to keep and hold and know.


	16. Crashing Chandeliers

**Nevermind: Chapter Sixteen**

_"I won't tell you_  
_That I'm not scared,_  
_So don't you tell me_  
_That this is what you wanted, and_  
_I won't tell you_  
_That I'm prepared,_  
_So don't you tell me_  
_That this mistake was honest."_  
- She's the Antagonist's _"Crashing Chandeliers"_

Samuel proved himself to be a pretty good cook.

Okay, maybe his cooking could have corroded the sides of a tank (I didn't think it was possible to make tomato soup that spicy), but it was delicious, aside from the third degree burns.

Ravine, who had taken after Nathaniel and had always liked hot food, even woke up enough to compliment him on it.

We all even wasted a half hour talking over lunch, until Samuel stood up and said, "Well, I think we've put off your bandages long enough, Emlyn."

I sighed and stood up, avoiding the bar in front of me, and followed him down into one of the basement rooms.

It was more than slightly creepy, the thought hit me, that I was following an exceptionally strong and dominant werewolf who could stand blood down into a windowless basement. But he was the Marrok's son. If anyone knew better, he would.

He started talking. Talking more than he had since we'd met. I figured it was to help me ignore that really painful burning sensation that seemed to completely fill my entire abdomen. I was suddenly glad that I'd been out like a light the first time he'd done this.

"I don't know if you know how much everyone around here owes you for getting rid of Leah - even if you didn't mean to." He sighed. "I know you didn't mean to, because I know you didn't know how to break a bond like that. I don't think anyone does. Other than death - and sometimes not even that - I know nothing that can break a bond. And I'm an old wolf. Older than most."

I knew that, of course. I'd heard Bran's - and invariably Samuel's - life story that morning. And while I didn't know how many centuries they'd been alive exactly, I knew that it was more than I could count on one hand, probably more than two.

"Anyway, even my father owes you thanks, I believe. Of course, he hasn't told me about any of his emotions - never has - but I've suspected. I think Leah was his way of coping. So that he wouldn't have to be completely alone on the levels he would have to be alone on without a mate. I think she liked being his mate for the power it gave her, and I think he liked being her mate because it gave him a connection with someone, even if she wasn't someone he really _loved._"

I lay there for a minute as he taped down the gauze and gave me a couple pills. "Antibiotics."

He said, "I'm sure you've heard all of this from Charles or my father. At least the first part."

"In so many words, yeah," I said.

He stood up. "I've got dishes to wash."

Samuel was gone by the time I could will myself to get up. No sooner had I stood up than I decided that I didn't want to go back out there at the moment.

Ravine opened the door and brought in a tote bag. "Anna brought these. Enough clothes for... two days? Two days, I think she said."

"Thanks, Ravine."

"Ah, no prob."

I stopped her before she could leave. "No, really. Thanks. I'm always the kid who needs help. You're always there." Okay, so maybe Hemingway or Dickinson would have puked at how unpoetical it was, but it got the point across well enough.

She squealed, "Aw!" and hobbled over to hug me before I could stop her. (Her leg wasn't as okay as she wanted us to think.) We both winced immediately. "Okay," she said breathlessly, "so maybe that wasn't such a brilliant idea."

"Yeah," I said.

"But, Emlyn, you don't have to thank me for that! It's what sisters do."

I inevitably thought of middle school. When best friends were sisters (not that I'd ever had anymore than one) and parents were 'rents or parental units. Nostalgia was nice.

She flopped down onto the couch behind us and grabbed the remote. "Let's see what's on TV. It has to be better than Mr. Boring up there reading the newspaper."

I lowered myself down beside her.

It was all-too-easy to fall into our old pattern. Since childhood, we (and all of the other Cunninghams) had a system of switching the remote between programs. Ravine turned it to some reruns of _The Andy Griffith Show_ and afterward I chose a childish episode of _The Cosby Show._

Without even realizing it, we spent the rest of the morning and majority of the afternoon watching old shows on television. When the reruns were over and we were left with the afternoon showings of celebrity tabloids and reality shows, we shut the TV off and went back upstairs.

Samuel was sitting in the living room, talking on the phone.

Ravine said, "I'm going to go take a shower," and proceeded to what I supposed was bathroom on the first floor - which I hadn't explored.

As soon as she was in the bathroom, Samuel looked over to me and asked, "Is she okay?"

"What do you mean?" Of course she was okay.

"Well, she seems kind of... spacey I guess. She seems like she doesn't like silence." He almost grimaced. So her effervescent charm wasn't working on him.

I sighed, "That's her flirting. I'd thought you'd realized that."

"With me?"

"Duh!" I said, sounding childish. "She flirts with everything that walks, first of all, and secondly, frankly, you're pretty hot. Don't blame her. Blame her feminininininini-ity." I'd always had trouble saying that word. Just like spelling banana. Without fail, I always wanted to spell it bananananana. Which, of course, was a fail.

"Um," he said awkwardly. "My fathers mate did _not _just tell me I'm hot. And I'm not a pedophile. Ravine's just a kid."

Huh. She'd always looked womanly to my teenage girl eyes. Ravine was all curves. She was easily five-foot-eleven, next to my short frame. She'd always just seemed _older_ to me. Maybe I was wrong.

"She's nineteen. I always thought she looked older," I ventured.

He lifted an eyebrow. "I would have guessed sixteen at oldest."

Wow. I had been wrong. God. If Ravine, with her body, looked sixteen, I must look like Mickey Mouse's biggest fan.

He was opening his mouth to say something when the phone rang. He looked at me for a second, as if expecting me to get it, and then realized that it wasn't my house and went to pick it up himself.

While I had better hearing than humans, it wasn't even close to that of werewolves, so I only heard buzzing and a one-sided conversation.

"Samuel Cornick-" pause. "Yes, I was there." Pause. "I left around nine this morning." Pause. "Yeah, I heard." Pause. "Hm, who said that?" Pause. "Ah. He would." Pause, glance at me. "She's here, safe." Pause. "What?" Pause. "Oh, yes." Two-week pause. "You probably should." Pause. "Okay."

Samuel clicked the phone off and put it back on the cradle. "T-minus twenty minutes."

"Until what?" I asked.

He smiled a smile that only a werewolf could work. It was complete with that strange gleam in his eye and gave me the feeling that he was enjoying whatever it was he knew. "Until all hell breaks loose in the middle of Montana."

Curiosity killed the cat, they say.


	17. Killed By An Angel

**Nevermind: Chapter Seventeen**

_"The way the sea reflects the sun, long gone_;  
_ And all the miracles of love, long gone_.  
_ You hold your heart out in your hand_ -  
_ One last long sigh gone_.  
_ One last long sigh gone_.  
_When you see the sores you can't believe them_.  
_ Pathogenic lovers in a basement cell_.  
_ Dirty white sheets cut up in strips_;  
_ Cracks in the mirror and you mind slips_;  
_ Serum vails to help you when you're sad."  
- _Sunny Day Real Estate's "Killed By An Angel."

"Hell?"

"Okay," Samuel said, "maybe that's a little ominous."

_Chyeah, ya think?_ "Maybe a little. Clarify for me, please?"

He said, "A couple of the alphas are throwing fits because the Marrok's mated to a... to you."

I sighed. How long had it been? Not a week, I knew, and people were already getting pissed off about it? It was starting to really get on my last nerve. Everyone outside of the Marrok's pack and family had no business getting into _my _business. Or Bran's. Or whatever.

"Of course." I sat there for a minute, just staring at the chair. Finally I said angrily, "You know, god for-fucking-bid people actually staying out of everyone else's business!"

Sam said, "Well, I don't know all of what happened - you'll learn soon enough that Da only tells people how much he thinks they should know - but what I do know is that Da went slightly crazy on the wolves that started a ruckus."

Looking at Samuel, I said, "What, exactly, constitutes 'slightly crazy'?"

He laughed, "Not a bloodbath, if that's what you're thinking. He probably just calmly said something in passing that pissed them off."

"So... why'd he call here so urgent? And, moreover, why the hell did you say until all hell breaks loose? Are you just _trying _to give me an aneurysm?"

I had expected him to laugh. Or to smile or to grin or something to show that he'd been playing, but he didn't. Samuel stood up and held out his hand to me, "Da's sending some wolves over here to take you somewhere. He hasn't told me where yet, says that he's to let us know when today's meetings are over with."

"Ravine's coming with me," I stated. Then, "Wait, why did you go all horror flick on me earlier?"

He started to walk out of the room and just before he got through the door, he stopped, turned around grinning and said, "To get back at you for calling me hot. Just... don't do that. Ever. Again."

I snorted, starting to laugh, when he told me to get my stuff together, and to get Ravine to hurry up in the shower, which reminded me of reality.

I stood and paced the room, thinking.

So Bran was going to move me - alright. Fine by me, as long as I wouldn't be alone (or worse, with strangers); but _where_ was he moving me? I mean, no doubt he owned places that weren't in Montana. After all, the Marrok was richer than God. But he couldn't move me out of the country. I didn't have a passport.. or a license for that matter.

I didn't really want to go. I was just getting used to being here.

As usual, my impeccable timing had ruined everything, again.

Well, actually, _I'd _ruined everything, but that was beside the point.

I realized, for no particular reason, that I hadn't eaten that day. I guess it had hit me when I'd thought about the possibility of foreign food.

Making my way into the kitchen, I heard Samuel on the phone in another room. Listening to other people's conversations is bad, I knew, but I couldn't help myself.

"Anna, I know. I know that... No, I don't know... Charles won't go. I can tell you that right now. He's gotta be here for the meetings... I don't know about that... Anna, you're asking me questions I can't answer... I know I'm his son, but he doesn't tell me everything. As a matter of fact, he tells me very little... Yes, I'll keep you updated. Or I'll get Charles to. Alright." Click.

I made my way past the door straight into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, just staring in there. I didn't know what I wanted, and I was trying to make sense of what I'd just heard.

Most likely, it was Anna worried that Charles was going to have to go somewhere - presumably on the little road trip I was being forced into - but what was the next part that Samuel didn't know?

I heard him walk in behind me and pour himself something to drink. The silence was almost awkward, until he said, "You know what they say about eavesdroppers, right?"

My face turned red. I didn't really know what to say, so with my back still to him I just said, "Yup."

He chuckled. "Never eavesdrop on a werewolf. They will always know you're there. I figured you'd know that."

He'd pushed the wrong button. I was getting sick of people referring to my past. I didn't want to think of it, and, really, I didn't want anyone else to think about it. I spun around and half-yelled, "Shut up, Samuel. Just shut up. I know that better than _anyone. _And I'll be-"

"What? Emlyn, what?" He stood up, towering over me, even from across the kitchen.

I turned back around to the fridge and put my hand over my mouth. _I will not let this affect me. I will not. I will not give him the satisfaction._ I kept telling myself. But it didn't work. I stared into the fridge, still holding my breath, when a sob let out.

_The whole house was silent, except for the drunken, patternless steps coming down the stairs. _

_ My face was almost sticky with tears, dried after I couldn't cry anymore. It was dark down here, but light enough to see in a dingy way. Why he kept a place like this under his house was beyond me. _

_ I willed myself not to Change. He would beat me if he found me changed. Especially after he'd discovered me down here that morning, in my condition._

_ I'd been down here for going on five months. He'd never kept me this long. I couldn't help but wonder where Nathaniel was. Where dad was. Where anyone was but that evil bastard that kept me chained down here. I knew where he was. He was coming down the stairs, making his way here so he could have his daily regimen of getting his fill and then pushing me a little closer to biting through my tongue. _

_ The drunken steps made their way, slowly, closer to the door._

_ If I hadn't been chained, I could have found a way out. I could have screamed until the neighbors heard me. I could have found a pipe or something to beat him with. I could have broken a window. I could have hung myself._

_ The door slowly opened, and I saw him. I was positive, by this point, that he was the true incarnation of evil. That he was the Devil himself, and somehow I had screwed up so bad that God wasn't listening to my prayers anymore._

_ Tomorrow was my sixteenth birthday. I knew because he'd rubbed it in my face this morning. Other kids get cars on their sixteenth birthdays. Mustangs, iPods, cell phones, computers. _

_ I'd be lucky to get fed._

_ I wasn't sure what they'd told my last school or the housekeeper, but I supposed it was a good lie - no one had come looking yet. _

_ I had given up on begging. I had given up on struggling against the chains, and I had given up on ever seeing the light of day again, by that point. Especially in my current condition. I was emaciated. Starving and dehydrated. Mainly because Clyde thought it was funny to give me food and water in dog bowls every few days. But I wasn't stupid enough to let pride get in the way. Food was food. It tasted nasty and was harder to eat from a bowl, but if it meant not feeling like my stomach was eating itself away, I'd do it._

_ He stood there for a moment, no doubt taking in the wonderful view of basement, dingy, dusty, dirty stone, with a dying, pale, half-clothed, dingy-dusty-dirty girl twisting around in her chains on the concrete in the far corner. _

_ He laughed. A low, grumbling laugh. That laugh haunted me in my dreams and in my hallucinations. I'd never forget that laugh. _

_ It was the sound he always made before he hurt me in the worst way._

_ I curled up into the fetal position as he stumbled closer and closer to me. From halfway across the room, I could smell the Johnnie Walker on his breath. I could smell the fact that he hadn't bathed today or yesterday. I could smell the outside on him - the dirt, the air. Car exhaust. Air conditioning. His breakfast of pancakes and lunch of roast beef and dinner of alcohol and chips. _

_ My insides hurt worse just by him being near. They hurt all the time now - I was used to that. _

_ He didn't say anything today. He'd gotten all his snide comments out of the way that morning. Now he was just ready to hurt me and get it over with. I yanked at the chains, pulling myself closer to the walls, as if they could give me some protection. _

_ "Aw," he slurred, "c'mon now. Don't pull that again."_

_ I growled at him. Before I'd been locked up here, I hadn't known how to growl in my human form - only my wolf knew. But now, now it ripped from my throat almost as if it had it's own will. A guttural, animalistic sound that sounded wrong. _

_ "Oh, so we gonna play _that _game today, then, are we."_

_ With every step he took, every inch he got closer to me, I growled a little bit louder. When he finally got close enough, he leaned down and put his hand on the back of my leg, making to grab it. I snarled and kicked at him, knowing full well I was just making things worse for myself._

_ He yelled towards the door, "It's sure enough feisty tonight!" before turning that terrifying face back to me and slowly grinning a devilish grin. _

_ I screamed until there was no oxygen in my lungs, and then I screamed again. Until my throat was raw and my stomach churned and my face hurt. Until it stopped echoing off the walls and seemed to sink into them instead._

_ But it didn't make a difference._

_ It never did._

Sam was waving his hand in my face, saying my name.

I blinked, and managed to mumble, "I'm okay," before falling to the ground. I hadn't realized until then that I'd managed to stay standing up during this episode.

He almost caught me, but for some reason he wasn't quick enough. My head hit the ground. Hard. But not hard enough to knock me out. My abdomen burned and ached from the quick movement.

"Jesus- Emlyn, come on. Don't go and do this now. Come on." He sounded panicked.

It took me a good thirty seconds or a minute to shape my mouth right before I said, "Stop it, Sam. I'm fine."

I took another moment to right myself with gravity before holding my hand up. He grabbed it and helped me up - I clutched my abdomen the whole time.

After I finally convinced him I wasn't going to fall out again (even though I wasn't completely sure I wouldn't) Samuel started making me something to eat.

"So, what the hell was that, Emlyn. I'm not kidding. What just happened?"

I opened my mouth to speak and found that I had no answers. Finally, "I really don't know. It keeps happening, though."

"Was that another flashback? What keeps setting you off?"

"Samuel, if I knew I would tell you. I don't know what setting it off. And it's starting to really scare me." I sighed. "I don't want to relive that stuff. And it's so... You wouldn't believe how vivid it is."

He handed me a plate with a sandwich on it and sat down across from me. "Can I ask what you're remembering?"

"No. You can't." That sounded too rough. I added, "Please don't."

He shook his head. "Alright."

The doorbell rang.

"That'll be the wolves," Sam said. "Eat your sandwich. You're safe. Please don't do that again."

"Why?" I asked. "I mean, why are you so worried about it?"

"Because it would piss off my father if I wasn't," he said, and walked out.

I supposed it had been too much to hope for that someone actually cared about my well-being.

* * *

I know I haven't updated in literally forever and one day.

And I apologize, but I'm gonna stop making excuses here.

Basically: I'm a super slow writer. I get bored with one story and go to another or stop writing for a while or whatever, and then eventually I get back into the swing of things and write some more. And that's a bad way to write - especially when you have someone actually reading what you're writing. I have a lot going on in my life at the moment (start of Junior year and all of my clubs and whatnot) so that doesn't help.

So I'm sorry. If you still read the story after all the time between the last chapter and this, then I thank you.

If not, I don't really blame you. I know I wouldn't have the patience for that.

So, yeah. I'm going to try and keep updating this time. But you know me. I never can seem to keep that promise.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter (I hope).

I'll try and have a new one for ya soon.

Thanks (and please forgive me),

-Em.


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